LOYE 
WOKKS  WOKDEES. 

A  NOVEL. 

BY 
BEETHA     M.    CLAY, 

AUTHOR  OF 

"THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD,"  ETC. 


'*  O  you,  that  have  the  charge  of  Love, 
Keep  him  in  rosy  bondage  bound, 
As  in  the  Fields  of  Bliss  above 

He  sits  with  flowerets  fetter'd  round; 
Loose  not  a  tie  that  round  him  clings, 
Nor  ever  let  him  use  his  wings; 
For  even  an  hour,  a  minute's  flight 
Will  rob  the  plumes  of  half  their  light." 

MOORE. 


NEW  YORK: 

G.   ff^.   Carkton   ^f  Co.,  Publishers. 

STREET  &  SMITH,  NEW  YORK  WEEKLY.^ 


MDCCCLXXVIII. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1877, 

BY  STKEET  &  SMITH. 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


FRANCIS  S.  STREKT, ) 

FRANCIS  S.  SMITH,      I*"***™  ^  **"*" 

OF  THE 

NEW  YORK  WEEKLY, 
THE  LEAD:N«  .STOBY  XND  Siotcra  >.*APEB  or  THE  AQB. 

/•'•. 


To 
THE  READERS  OF  THE 

NEW    YOF^K    WEEKLY, 

WHO  FOR  NEARLY  TWENTY  YEARS,  HAVE 
STOOD  FAITHFULLY  BY  US,  CHEER- 
ING US  IN  OUR   LABORS, 
AND  BIDDING  US 

GOD-SPEED  ; 

TO    WHOM    OUR 

PET  JOURNAL  HAS  BECOME 

A  HOUSEHOLD  WORD,  AND  WITHOUT 

WHOSE  AID  WE  COULD   HAVE   ACCOMPLISHED 
NOTHING,  THIS  VOLUME  IS  RESPECTFULLY 

^DEDICATED 

BY  THE   PUBLISHERS, 

S  T  F^E  E  T     &     SMITH. 


CONTENTS: 

CHAPTEB.  PAGE. 

I. — A  GIRL  WITH  A  CHARACTER 9 

II. — "DARRELL  COURT  is  A  PRISON  TO  ME  !" 16 

III. — "YouR  GOOD  SOCIETY  is  ALL  DECEIT" 28 

IV.— "You  ARE  GOING  TO  SPOIL  MY  LIFE" 35 

V. — PAULINE'S  GOOD  POINTS 42 

VI. — THE  PROGRESS   MADE  BY  THE  PUPIL 47 

VII. — CAPTAIN  LANGTON 54 

VIII. — THE  INTRODUCTION. 61 

IX. — THE  BROKEN  LILY 67 

X. — PAULINE  STILL  INCORRIGIBLE 74 

XL— How  WILL  IT  END? 81 

XII. — ELINOR  ROCHEFORD 87 

XIII. — SIR  OSWALD  THINKS  OF  MARRIAGE 94 

XIV.— PAULINE'S  LOVE  FOR  DARRELL  COURT 103 

XV.— BREACH  BETWEEN  UNCLE  AND  NIECE 108 

XVI. — THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  BALL 115 

XVII. — PAULINE'S   BRIGHT  FANCIES 122 

XVIII. —REJECTED 128 

XIX. — PAULINE  THREATENS  VENGEANCE 142 

XX. — CAPTAIN  LANGTON  DESPERATE 148 

XXI. — MYSTERIOUS  ROBBERY 156 

XXII. — FULFILLING  THE  CONTRACT 163 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XXIII. — No  COMPROMISE  WITH  PAULINE 169 

XXIV.— A  RICH  GIFT  DECLINED 176 

.   XXV.— A  TRUE  DARRELL 183 

XXVI. — A  PUZZLING  QUESTION 189 

XXVII. —SiR  OSWALD'S  DOUBTS 196 

XXVIII. — READING  OF  THE  •  WILL 203 

XXIX. — WAITING  FOR  REVENGE 209 

XXX. — WILL  FATE  AID  PAULINE? 217 

XXXI. — FATE  FAVORS  PAULINE 225 

XXXII. — CAPTAIN  LANGTON   ACCEPTED 231 

XXXIII. — "I  HAVE  HAD  MY  REVENGE  !" 239 

XXXIV. — THE  STRANGER  ON  THE  SANDS 247 

XXXV. — THE  STORY  OF  ELAINE 253 

XXXVI. — REDEEMED  BY  LOVE 260 

XXXVII. — PRIDE  BROUGHT  Low 267 

XXXVIII.— PAULINE  AND  LADY  DARRELL 287 

XXXIX. — FACE  TO  FACE 294 

XL.  — DYING  IN  SIN 303 

XLI. — THE  WORK  OF  ATONEMENT 308 

XLII. — LOVE  AND  SORROW 314 

XLIII. — LADY  DARRELL'S  WILL 321 

XLIV. — SHADOW  OF  ABSENT  LOVE 328 


LOVE  WOEKS  WONDEKS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   GIRL    WITH    A   CHARACTER. 

It  was  a  strange  place  for  an  intelligence  office,  yet  Madame 
Selini  evidently  knew  what  she  was  doing  when  she  established 
her  office  in  an  aristocratic  neighborhood,  and  actually  next 
door  to  the  family  mansion  of  the  Countess  Dowager  of  Bare- 
wood.  The  worthy  countess  was  shocked,  and,  taking  counsel 
of  her  hopes,  predicted  that  Madame  Selini's  institution  would 
soon  prove  a  failure.  Notwithstanding  this  prediction,  the 
agency  prospered,  and  among  its  patrons  were  many  of  the 
nobility. 

One  fine  morning  in  May  a  carriage  stopped  before  Madame 
Selini's  door,  and  from  it  descended  a  handsome,  aristocratic 
.gentleman,  evidently  of  the  old  school.  There  was  some  little 
commotion  in  the  interior  of  the  building,  and  then  a  foot-page 


io  A  GIRL   WITH  A  CHARACTER. 

appeared;  to  whom  Sii  Oswald  Darrell — for  that  was  the  gentle- 
man's nurc — g-Aye' his  card* 

"I  am  here  by  appointment,"  he  said,  "to  see  Madame 
Selini." 

He  was  ushered  into  a  handsomely  furnished  room,  where,  in 
a  few  minutes,  he  was  joined  by  Madame  Selini  herself— a  quick, 
bright  Frenchwoman,  whose  dark  eyes  seemed  to  embrace 
everything  in  their  comprehensive  glance.  Sir  Oswald  bowed 
with  stately  courtesy  and  quaint,  old-fashioned  grace. 

"  Have  you  been  so  fortunate,  madam e,  as  to  find  that  which 
I  am  in  search  of?"  he  inquired. 

"I  think  you  will  be  pleased,  Sir  Oswald — nay,  I  am  sure 
you  will, "  answered  the  lady.  ' '  I  have  a  lady  waiting  to  see 
you  now,  who  will  prove,  I  should  say,  a  treasure. " 

Sir  Oswald  bowed,  and  madame  continued  : 

"  Miss  Hastings — Miss  Agnes  Hastings — has  been  for  the  last 
six  years  finishing  governess  at  Lady  Castledine's,  and  her  two 
pupils  make  their  debut  this  year ;  so  that  there  is  no  longer  any 
occasion  for  her  services. " 

"And  you  think  she  would  be  fitted,  madame,  to  occupy  the 
position  for  which  I  require  a  lady  of  talent  and  refinement  ?" 

"I  am  quite  sure  of  it,"  replied  madame.  "Miss  Hastings 
is  thirty  years  of  ag;e.  She  is  highly  accomplished,  and  her 
manners  are  exceedingly  lady-like.  She  is  a  person  of  great  re- 
finement; moreover,  she  has  had  great  experience  with  young 
girls.  I  do  not  think,  Sir  Oswald,  that  you  could  do  better." 

' '  Is  the  lady  here  ?     Can  I  see  her  ?" 


A  QIRL  WITH  A  CHARACTER.  n 

Madame  Selini  rang,  and  desired  the  little  page  to  ask  Miss 
Hastings  to  come  to  her.  In  a  few  minutes  an  elegant,  well- 
dressed  lady  entered  the  room.  She  advanced  with  a  quiet  grace 
and  dignity  that  seemed  natural  to  her;  there  was  not  the 
slightest  trace  of  awkwardness  or  mauvaise  honte  in  her  manner. 

Madame  Selini  introduced  her  to  Sir  Oswald  Darrell. 

"I  will  leave  you,"  she  said,  "to  discuss  your  private  arrange- 
ments. " 

Madame  quitted  the  room  with  gliding,  subtle  grace,  and 
then  Sir  Oswald,  in  his  courtly  fashion,  placed  a  chair  for  Miss 
Hastings.  He  looked  at  the  pale,  clear-cut  face  for  a  few  min- 
utes in  silence,  as  though  he  were  at  a  loss  what  to  say,  and 
then  he  commenced  suddenly  : 

"I  suppose  Madame  Selini  has  told  you  what  I  want,  Miss 
Hastings?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  quiet  reply;  "your  niece  has  been  neglected 
— you  want  some  one  to  take  the  entire  superintendence  of 
her." 

"Neglected!"  exclaimed  Sir  Oswald.  "My  dear  madame, 
that  is  a  mild  word,  which  does  not  express  the  dreadful  reality. 
I  wish  to  disguise  nothing  from  you,  I  assure  you — she  literally 
horrifies  me. " 

Miss  Hastings  smiled. 

"Neglected  !"  he  repeated — "the  girl  is  a  savage — a  splendid 
savage — nothing  more  nor  less." 

"Has  she  not  received  any  kind  of  training,  then,  Sir 
Oswald?" 


12  A  GIRL   WITH  A  CHARACTER. 

1 '  Training  !  My  dear  madame,  can  you  imagine  what  a  wild 
vine  is — a  vine  that  has  never  been  cultivated  or  pruned,  but 
allowed  to  grow  wild  in  all  its  natural  beauty  and  strength,  to 
cling  where  it  would,  to  trail  on  the  ground  and  to  twine  round 
forest  trees  ?  Such  a  vine  is  a  fit  type  of  my  niece. " 

Miss  Hastings  looked  slightly  bewildered.  Here  was  a  very 
different  pupil  from  the  elegant,  graceful  daughters  of  Lady 
Castledine. 

"I  should,  perhaps,"  continued  Sir  Oswald,  "explain  to  you 
the  peculiar  position  that  my  niece,  Miss  Pauline  Darrell,  has 
occupied. " 

His  grand  old  face  flushed,  and  his  stately  head  was  bowed, 
as  though  some  of  the  memories  that  swept  over  him  were  not 
free  from  shame ;  and  then,  with  a  little  gesture  of  his  white 
hand,  on  which  shone  a  large  diamond  ring,  he  said  : 

"There  is  no  need  for  me  to  tell  you,  Miss  Hastings,  that  the 
Darrells  are  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  England — ancient, 
honorable,  and,  I  must  confess,  proud — very  proud.  My 
father,  the  late  Sir  Hildebert  Darrell,  was,  I  should  say,  one  of 
the  proudest  and  most  reserved  of  men.  He  had  but  two  chil- 
dren, myself  and  a  daughter  twelve  years  younger — my  sister 
Felicia.  I  was  educated  abroad.  It  was  one  of  my  father's 
fancies  that  I  should  see  many  lands,  that  I  should  study  men 
and  women  before  settling  down  to  my  right  position  in  the 
world  ;  so  that  I  knew  but  little  of  my  sister  Felicia.  She  was 
a  child  when  I  left  home — the  tragedy  of  her  life  had  happened 
before  I  returned." 


A  GIRL   WITH  A  CHARACTER.  13 

Again  a  great  rush  of  color  came  over  the  pale,  aristocratic 
face. 

"I  must  apologize,  Miss  Hastings,  for  troubling  you  with 
these  details,  but  unless  you  understand  them  you  will  not  un- 
derstand my  niece.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  it  happened,  but  it 
did  so  happen  that  while  I  was  away  my  sister  disgraced  herself; 
she  left  home  with  a  French  artist,  whom  Sir  Hildebert  had  en- 
gaged to  renovate  some  choice  and  costly  pictures  at  Darrell 
Court.  How  it  came  about  I  cannot  say — perhaps  there  were 
excuses  for  her.  She  may  have  found  home  very  dull — my 
father  was  harsh  and  cold,  and  her  mother  was  dead.  It  may  be 
that  when  the  young  artist  told  her  of  warm  love  in  sunny  lands 
she  was  tempted,  poor  child,  to  leave  the  paternal  roof! 

' '  My  father's  wrath  was  terrible ;  he  pursued  Julian  L/Estrange 
with  unrelenting  fury.  I  believe  the  man  would  have  been  a 
successful  artist  but  for  my  father,  -who  had  vowed  to  ruin  him, 
and  who  never  rested  until  he  had  done  so — until  he  had  re- 
duced him  to  direst  poverty — and  then  my  sister  appealed  for 
help,  and  my  father  refused  to  grant  it.  He  would  not  allow 
her  name  to  be  mentioned  among  us;  her  portrait  was  de- 
stroyed ;  everything  belonging  to  her  was  sent  away  from  Darrell 
Court. 

"When  I  returned — in  an  interview  that  I  shall  never  forget — 
my  father  threatened  me  not  only  with  disinheritance,  but  with 
his  curse,  if  I  made  any  attempt  to  hold  the  least  communica- 
tion with  my  sister.  I  do  not  know  that  I  should  have  obeyed 
him  if  I  could  have  found  her,  but  I  did  not  even  know  what 


14  A  GIRL  WITH  A  CHARACTER. 

part  of  the  world  she  was  in.  She  died,  poor  girl,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  that  her  death  was  greatly  hastened  by  privation.  My 
father  told  me  of  her  death,  also  that  she  had  left  one  daughter  ; 
he  did  more — he  wrote  to  Julian  L'Estrange,  and  offered  to 
adopt  his  daughter  on  the  one  condition  that  he  would  consent 
never  to  see  her  or  hold  the  least  communication  with  her. 

"The  reply  was,  as  you  may  imagine,  a  firm  refusal  and  a 
fierce  denunciation.  In  the  same  letter  came  a  note,  written  in 
a  large,  childish  haod  : 

"  'I  love  my  papa,  and  I  do  not  love  you.  I  will  not  come 
to  live  with  you.  You  are  a  cruel  man,  and  you  helped  to  kill 
my  dear  mamma.' 

' '  It  was  a  characteristic  little  note,  and  was  signed  '  Pauline 
L  Estrange. '  My  father's  anger  on  receiving  it  was  very  great. 
I  confess  that  I  was  more  amused  than  angry.  . 

"My  father,  Miss  Hasting^,  lived  to  a  good  old  age.  I  was 
not  a  young  man  when  I  succeeded  him.  He  left  me  all  his 
property.  You  must  understand  the  Darrell  and  Audleigh 
Royal  estates  are  not  entailed.  He  made  no  mention  in  his 
will  of  the  only  grandchild  he  had;  but,  after  I  had  arranged  all 
my  affairs,  I  resolved  to  find  her.  For  ten  years  I  have  been 
doing  all  I  could — sending  to  France,  Italy,  Spain,  and  every 
country  where  I  thought  it  possible  the  artist  might  have  sought 
refuge. 

"Three  months  since  I  received  a  letter  from  him,  written  on 
his  death-bed,  asking  me  to  do  something  for  Pauline,  who  had 
grown  up  into  a  beautiful  girl  of  seventeen.  I  found  then  that 


A  GIRL   WITH  A  CHARACTER.  15 

he  had  been  living  for  some  years  in  the  Rue  d'Orme,  Paris.  I 
buried  him,  brought  his  daughter  to  England,  and  made 
arrangements  whereby  she  should  assume  the  name  of  Darrell. 
But  I  little  knew  what  a  task  I  had  undertaken.  Pauline  ought 
to  be  my  heiress,  Miss  Hastings.  She  ought  to  succeed  me  at 
Darrell  Court.  I  have  no  other  relatives.  But — well,  I  will 
not  despair ;  you  will  see  what  can  be  done  with  her. " 

"What  are  her  deficiencies?"  asked  Miss  Hastings. 

Sir  Oswald  raised  his  white  hands  with  a  gesture  of  despair. 

"I  will  tell  you  briefly.  She  has  lived  among  artists.  She 
does  not  seem  to  have  ever  known  any  of  her  own  sex.  She  is 
— I  am  sorry  to  use  the  word — a  perfect  Bohemian.  Whether 
she  can  be  transformed  into  anything  faintly  resembling  a  lady, 
I  cannot  tell.  Will  you  undertake  the  task,  Miss  Hastings  ?" 

She  looked  very  thoughtful  for  some  minutes,  and  then 
answered : 

"I  will  do  my  best,  Sir  Oswald." 

"I  thank  you  very  much.  You  must  permit  me  to  name 
liberal  terms,  for  your  task  will  be  no  light  one. " 

And  the  interview  ended,  to  their  mutual  satisfaction. 


16     "DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  ME/" 


CHAPTER  II. 
"DARRELL  COURT  is  A  PRISON  TO  ME!" 

It  was  a  beautiful  May  day,  bright  with  fresh  spring  loveliness. 
The  leaves  were  springing  fresh  and  green  from  the  trees ;  the 
hedges  were  all  abloom  with  pink  hawthorn ;  the  chestnut  trees 
were  all  in  flower ;  the  gold  of  the  laburnum,  the  purple  of  the 
lilac,  the  white  of  the  fair  acacia  trees,  and  the  delicate  green  of 
the  stately  elms  and  limes  gave  a  beautiful  variety  of  color. 
The  grass  was  dotted  with  a  hundred  wild-flowers ;  great  clusters 
of  yellow  buttercups  looked  in  the  distance  like  the  upspreading 
of  a  sea  of  gold ;  the  violets  perfumed  the  air,  the  bluebells 
stirred  in  the  sweet  spring  breeze,  and  the  birds  sang  out  loudly 
and  jubilantly. 

If  one  spot  looked  more  lovely  than  another  on  this  bright 
May  day,  it  was  Darrell  Court,  for  it  stood  where  the  sun  shone 
brightest,  in  one  of  the  most  romantic  and  picturesque  nooks  of 
England — the  part  of  Woodshire  bordering  on  the  sea. 

The  mansion  and  estates  stood  on  gently  rising  ground;  a 
chain  of  purple  hills  stretched  away  into  the  far  distance  ;  then 
came  the  pretty  town  of  Audleigh  Royal,  the  Audleigh  Woods, 


"DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  MET    17 

and  the  broad,  deep  river  Darte.  The  bank  of  the  river  formed 
the  boundary  of  the  Darrell  estates,  a  rich  and  magnificent 
heritage,  wherein  every  beauty  of  meadow  and  wood  seemed  to 
meet.  The  park  was  rich  in  its  stately  trees  and  herds  of  deer ; 
and  not  far  from  the  house  was  a  fir-wood — an  aromatic,  odor- 
ous fir-wood,  which  led  to  the  very  shores  of  the  smiling  south- 
ern sea. 

By  night  and  by  day  the  grand  music  of  nature  was  heard  in 
perfection  at  Darrell  Court.  Sometimes  it  was  the  roll  of  the 
wind  across  the  hills,  or  the  beat  of  angry  waves  on  the  shore, 
or  the  wild  melody  of  the  storm  among  the  pine  trees,  or  the 
full  chorus  of  a  thousand  feathered  songsters.  The  court  itself 
was  one  of  the  most  picturesque  of  mansions.  It  did  not 
belong  to  any  one  order  or  style  of  architecture — there  was  noth- 
ing stiff  or  formal  about  it — but  it  looked  in  that  bright  May 
sunshine  a  noble  edifice,  with  its  square  towers  covered  with 
clinging  ivy,  gray  turrets,  and  large  arched  windows. 

Did  the  sun  ever  shine  upon  such  a  combination  of  colors  ? 
The  spray  of  the  fountains  glittered  in  the  air,  the  numerous 
balconies  were  filled  with  flowers ;  wherever  it  was  possible  for  a 
flower  to  take  root,  one  had  been  placed  to  grow — purple  wista- 
rias, sad,  solemn  passion-flowers,  roses  of  every  hue.  The  star- 
like  jessamine  and  scarlet  creepers  gave  to  the  walls  of  the  old 
mansion  a  vivid  glow  of  color ;  gold  and  purple  enriched  the 
gardens,  heavy  white  lilies  breathed  faintest  perfume.  The  spot 
looked  a  very  Eden. 

The  grand  front  entrance  consisted  of  a  large  gothic  porch, 


i8    "DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  MET 

which  was  reached  by  a  broad  flight  of  steps,  adorned  with 
white  marble  vases  filled  with  flowers ;  the  first  terrace  was  im- 
mediately below,  and  terrace  led  from  terrace  down  to  the  grand 
old  gardens,  where  sweetest  blossoms  grew. 

There  was  an  old-world  air  about  the  place — something  patri- 
cian, quiet,  reserved.  It  was  no  vulgar  haunt  for  vulgar  crowds  ; 
it  was  not  a  show  place  ;  and  the  master  of  it,  Sir  Oswald  Dar- 
rell,  as  he  stood  upon  the  terrace,  looked  in  keeping  with  the 
surroundings. 

There  was  a  distingue  air  about  Sir  Oswald,  an  old-fashioned 
courtly  dignity,  which  never  for  one  moment  left  him.  He  was 
thoroughly  well  bred  ;  he  had  not  two  sets  of  manners— one  for 
the  world,  and  one  for  private  life ;  he  was  always  the  same, 
measured  in  speech,  noble  in  his  grave  condescension.  No 
man  ever  more  thoroughly  deserved  the  name  of  aristocrat ;  he 
was  delicate  and  fastidious,  with  profound  and  deeply-rooted  dis- 
like for  all  that  was  ill-bred,  vulgar,  or  mean. 

Even  in  his  dress  Sir  Oswald  was  remarkable  ;  the  superfine 
white  linen,  the  diamond  studs  and  sleeve  links,  the  rare  jewels 
that  gleamed  on  his  fingers — all  struck  the  attention  ;  and,  as  he 
took  from  his  pocket  a  richly  engraved  golden  snuff-box  and 
tapped  it  with  the  ends  of  his  delicate  white  fingers,  there  stood 
revealed  a  thorough  aristocrat — the  ideal  of  an  English  patrician 
gentleman. 

Sir  Oswald  walked  round  the  stately  terraces  and  gardens. 

"I  do  not  see  her,"  he  said  to  himself;  "yet  most  certainly 
Frampton  told  me  she  was  here, " 


"DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  MET    19 

Then,  with  his  gold-headed  cane  in  hand,  Sir  Oswald  de- 
scended to  the  gardens.  He  was  evidently  in  search  of  some 
one.  Meeting  one  of  the  gardeners,  who  stood,  hat  in  hand, 
as  he  passed  by,  Sir  Oswald  asked  : 

"Have  you  seen  Miss  Darrell  in  the  gardens?" 

' '  I  saw  Miss  Darrell  in  the  fernery  some  five  minutes  since, 
Sir  Oswald, "  was  the  reply. 

Sir  Oswald  drew  from  his  pocket  a  very  fine  white  handker- 
chief and  diffused  an  agreeable  odor  of  millefleurs  around  him ; 
the  gardener  had  been  near  the  stables,  and  Sir  Oswald  was 
fastidious. 

A  short  walk  brought  him  to  the  fernery,  an  exquisite  com- 
bination of  rock  and  rustic  work,  arched  by  a  dainty  green  roof, 
and  made  musical  by  the  ripple  of  a  little  waterfall.  Sir  Oswald 
looked  in  cautiously,  evidently  rather  in  dread  of  what  he  might 
find  there ;  then  his  eyes  fell  upon  something,  and  he  said  : 

' '  Pauline,  are  you  there  ?" 

A  rich,  clear,  musical  voice  answered  : 

"Yes,  I  am  here,  uncle." 

"My  dear/'  continued  Sir  Oswald,  half  timidly,  not  advanc- 
•ng  a  step  farther  into  the  grotto,  "may  I  ask  what  you  are 
doing?" 

"Certainly,  uncle,"  was  the  cheerful  reply;  "you  may  ask 
by  all  means.  The  difficulty  is  to  answer  ;  for  I  am  really  doing 
nothing,  and  I  do  not  know  how  to  describe  '  nothing. ' " 

"Why  did  you  come  hither?"  he  asked. 

"To  dream,"  replied  the  musical  voice.      "I  think  the  sound 


20    "DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  MET 

of  falling  water  is  the  sweetest  music  in  the  world.     I  came  here 
to  enioy  it,  and  to  dream  over  it. " 

Sir  Oswald  looked  very  uncomfortable. 

"Considering,  Pauline,  how  much  you  have  been  neglected, 
do  you  not  think  you  might  spend  your  time  more  profitably — 
in  educating  yourself,  for  example  ?" 

"This  is  educating  myself.  I  am  teaching  myself  beautiful 
thoughts,  and  nature  just  now  is  my  singing  mistress."  And 
then  the  speaker's  voice  suddenly  changed,  and  a  ring  of 
passion  came  into  it.  "Who  says  that  I  have  been  neglected? 
When  you  say  that,  you  speak  ill  of  my  dear  dead  father,  and 
no  one  shall  do  that  in  my  presence.  You  speak  slander,  and 
slander  ill  becomes  an  English  gentleman.  If  I  was  neglected 
when  my  father  was  alive,  I  wish  to  goodness  such  neglect  were 
my  portion  now  1" 

Sir  Oswald  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Each  one  to  his  or  her  taste,  Pauline.  With  very  little 
more  of  such  neglect  you  would  have  been  a " 

He  paused ;  perhaps  some  instinct  of  prudence  warned  him. 

"A  what?''  she  demanded,  scornfully.  "Pray  finish  the 
sentence,  Sir  Oswald." 

"My  dear,  you  are  too  impulsive,  too  hasty.  You  want 
more  quietness  of  manner,  more  dignity." 

Her  voice  deepened  in  its  tones  as  she  asked  : 

' '  I  should  have  been  a  what,  Sir  Oswald  ?  I  never  begin  a 
sentence  and  leave  it  half  finished.  You  surely  are  not  afraid 
to  finish  it?" 


11  DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  ME!"    21 

"No,  my  dear/'  was  the  calm  reply;  " there  never  yet  was  a 
Darrell  afraid  of  anything  on  earth.  If  you  particularly  wish 
me  to  do  so,  I  will  finish  what  I  was  about  to  say.  You  would 
have  been  a  confirmed  Bohemian,  and  nothing  could  have  made 
you  a  lady." 

"I  love  what  you  call  Bohemians,  and  I  detest  what  you  call 
ladies,  Sir  Oswald, "  was  the  angry  retort. 

"Most  probably;  but  then,  you  see,  Pauline,  the  ladies  of 
the  house  of  Darrell  have  always  been  ladies — high-bred,  ele- 
gant women.  I  doubt  if  any  of  them  ever  knew  what  the  word 
1  Bohemian'  meant." 

She  laughed  a  little  scornful  laugh,  which  yet  was  sweet  and 
clear  as  the  sound  of  silver  bells. 

"I  had  almost  forgotten,"  said  Sir  Oswald.  "I  came  to 
speak  to  you  about  something,  Pauline  ;  will  you  come  into  the 
house  with  me?" 

They  walked  on  together  in  silence  for  some  minutes,  and 
then  Sir  Oswald  began  : 

"I  went  to  London,  as  you  know,  last  week,  Pauline,  and 
my  errand  was  on  your  behalf. " 

She  raised  her  eyebrows,  but  did  not  deign  to  ask  any  ques- 
tions. 

' '  I  have  engaged  a  lady  to  live  with  us  here  at  Darrell  Court, 
whose  duties  will  be  to  finish  your  education,  or,  rather,  I  may 
truthfully  say,  to  begin  it,  to  train  you  in  the  habits  of  refined 
society,  to — to — make  you  presentable,  in  fact,  Pauline,  which 
I  am  sorry,  really  sorry  to  say,  you  are  not  at  present. " 


22     "DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  MET 

She  made  him  a  low  bow — a  bow  full  of  defiance  and  re- 
bellion. 

"I  am  indeed  indebted  to  you,  Sir  Oswald." 

"No  trifling,"  said  the  stately  baronet,  "no sarcasm,  Pauline, 
but  listen  to  me !  You  are  not  without  sense  or  reason — pray 
attend.  Look  around  you,"  he  continued;  "remember  that 
the  broad  fair  lands  of  Darrell  Court  form  one  of  the  grandest 
domains  in  England.  It  is  an  inheritance  almost  royal  in  its 
extent  and  magnificence.  Whoso  reigns  here  is  king  or  queen 
of  half  a  county,  is  looked  up  to,  respected,  honored,  admired, 
and  imitated.  The  owner  of  Darrell  Court  is  a  power  even  in 
this  powerful  land  of  ours ;  men  and  women  look  up  to  such  a 
one  for  guidance  and  example.  Judge  then  what  the  owner  of 
the  inheritance  should  be." 

The  baronet's  grand  old  face  was  flushed  with  emotion. 

"He  must  be  pure,  or  he  would  make  immorality  the 
fashion;  honorable,  because  men  will  take  their  notions  of 
honor  from  him ;  just,  that  justice  may  abound  ;  upright,  stain- 
less. You  see  all  that,  Pauline  ?" 

' '  Yes, "  she  assented,  quickly. 

"No  men  have  so  much  to  answer  for, "  continued  Sir  Oswald, 
"as  the  great  ones  of  the  land — men  in  whose  hands  power  is 
vested — men  to  whom  others  look  for  example,  on  whose  lives 
other  lives  are  modeled — men  who,  as  it  vere,  carry  the  minds, 
if  not  the  souls,  of  their  fellow  men  in  the  hollows  of  their 
hands. " 


"DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  MET    23 

Pauline  looked  more  impressed,  and  insensibly  drew  nearer 
to  him. 

"Such  men,  I  thank  Heaven,"  he  said,  standing  bareheaded 
as  he  uttered  the  words,  "have  the  Darrells  been — loyal,  up- 
right, honest,  honorable,  of  stainless  repute,  of  stainless  life, 
fitted  to  rule  their  fellow  men — grand  men,  sprung  from  a  grand 
old  race.  And  at  times  women  have  reigned  here — women 
whose  names  have  lived  in  the  annals  of  the  land — who  have 
been  as  shining  lights  from  the  purity,  the  refinement,  the 
grandeur  of  their  lives. " 

He  spoke  with  a  passion  of  eloquence  not  lost  on  the  girl  by 
his  side. 

"I,"  he  continued,  humbly,  "am  one  of  the  least  worthy  of 
my  race.  I  have  done  nothing  for  its  advancement ;  but  at  the 
same  time  I  have  done  nothing  to  disgrace  it.  I  have  carried 
on  the  honors  passively.  The  time  is  coming  when  Darrell 
Court  must  pass  into  other  hands.  Now,  Pauline,  you  have 
heard,  you  know  what  the  ruler  of  Darrell  Court  should  be. 
Tell  me,  are  you  fitted  to  take  your  place  here  ?" 

"I  am  very  young,"  she  murmured. 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  youth.  Dame  Sibella  Darrell  reigned 
here  when  she  was  only  eighteen ;  and  the  sons  she  trained  to 
succeed  her  were  among  the  greatest  statesmen  England  has  ever 
known.  She  improved  and  enlarged  the  property;  she  died, 
after  living  here  sixty  years,  beloved,  honored,  and  revered.  It 
is  not  a  question  of  age. " 

"I  am  a  Darrell  I"  said  the  girl,  proudly. 


24     "DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  MET 

' '  Yes,  you  have  the  face  and  figure  of  a  Barrel ;  you  bear  the 
name,  too;  but  you  have  not  the  grace  and  manner  of  a 
Darrell." 

"Those  are  mere  outward  matters  of  polish  and  veneer,"  she 
said,  impatiently. 

"Nay,  not  so.  You  would  not  think  it  right  to  see  an  un- 
formed, untrained,  uneducated,  ignorant  girl  at  the  head  of  such 
a  house  as  this.  What  did  you  do  yesterday?  A  maid  dis- 
pleased you.  You  boxed  her  ears.  Just  imagine  it.  Such  a 
proceeding  on  the  part  of  the  mistress  of  Darrell  Court  would 
fill  one  with  horror." 

A  slight  smile  rippled  over  the  full  crimson  lips. 

"Queen  Elizabeth  boxed  her  courtiers'  ears,"  said  the  girl, 
"and  it  seemed  right  to  her." 

"A  queen,  Pauline,  is  hedged  in  by  her  own  royalty;  she 
may  do  what  she  will.  The  very  fact  that  you  are  capable  of 
defending  an  action  so  violent,  so  unlady-like,  so  opposed  to  all 
one's  ideas  of  feminine  delicacy,  proves  that  you  are  unfit  for  the 
position  you  ought  to  occupy." 

"  I  am  honest,  at  least.  I  make  no  pretensions  to  be  what  I 
am  not." 

"So  is  my  butler  honest,  but  that  does  not  fit  him  to  be  mas- 
ter of  Darrell  Court.  Honesty  is  but  one  quality — a  good  one, 
sturdy  and  strong ;  it  requires  not  one,  but  many  qualities  to 
hold  such  a  position  as  I  would  fain  have  you  occupy. " 

Miss  Darrell's  patience  was  evidently  at  an  end. 

"And  the  upshot  of  all  this,  Sir  Oswald,  is " 


"DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  MET    25 

"  Exactly  so — that  I  am  anxious  to  give  you  every  chance  in 
my  power — that  I  have  found  an  estimable,  refined,  elegant 
woman,  who  will  devote  her  time  and  talents  to  train  you  and  fit 
you  for  society. " 

A  low,  musical  laugh  broke  from  the  perfect  lips. 

"Have  you  any  idea/'  she  asked,  "what  I  shall  be  like  when 
I  am  trained  ?" 

"Like  a  lady,  I  trust — a  well-bred  lady.  I  can  imagine 
nothing  more  beautiful  than  that. " 

"When  is  she  coming,  this  model  of  yours,  Sir  Oswald?" 

"Nay,  your  model,  niece,  not  mine.  She  is  here  now,  and 
I  wish  to  introduce  her  to  you.  I  should  like  you,  if  possible," 
he  concluded,  meekly,  "to  make  a  favorable  impression  on 
her." 

There  was  another  impatient  murmur. 

"I  wish  you  to  understand,  Pauline,"  he  resumed,  after  a 
short  pause,  ' '  that  I  shall  expect  you  to  render  the  most  implicit 
obedience  to  Miss  Hastings — to  follow  whatever  rules  she  may 
lay  down  for  you,  to  attend  to  your  studies  as  she  directs  them, 
to  pay  the  greatest  heed  to  all  her  corrections,  to  copy  her  style, 
to  imitate  her  manners,  to " 

"I  hate  her!"  was  the  impetuous  outburst.  "I  would 
sooner  be  a  beggar  all  my  life  than  submit  to  such  restraint." 

"Very  well,"  returned  Sir  Oswald,  calmly.  "I  know  that 
arguing  with  you  is  time  lost.  The  choice  lies  with  yourself.  If 
you  decide  to  do  as  I  wish — to  study  to  become  a  lady  in  the 
truest  sense  of  the  word — if  you  will  fit  yourself  for  the  position, 


26    "DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  MET 

you  shall  be  heiress  of  Darrell  Court ;  if  not — if  you  persist  in 
your  present  unlady-like,  unrefined,  Bohemian  manner,  I  shall 
leave  the  whole  property  to  some  one  else,  I  tell  you  the  plain 
truth  without  any  disguise. " 

"I  do  not  want  Darrell  Court  !"  she  cried,  passionately;  "it 
is  a  prison  to  me !" 

"I  excuse  you,"  rejoined  Sir  Oswald,  coldly;  "you  are  ex- 
cited, and  so  not  answerable  for  what  you  say. " 

"Uncle,"  said  the  girl,  "do  you  see  that  beautiful  singing 
bird  there,  giving  voice  to  such  glorious  melody  ?  Do  you  think 
you  could  catch  it  and  put  it  in  a  cage  ?" 

"I  have  no  doubt  that  I  could,"  replied  Sir  Oswald. 

"But,  if  you  did,"  she  persisted  ;  "even  suppose  you  could 
make  it  forget  its  own  wild  melodies,  could  you  teach  it  to  sing 
formally  by  note  and  at  your  will  ?" 

"I  have  never  supposed  anything  of  the  kind,"  said  Sir 
Oswald.  "You  are  possessed  of  far  too  much  of  that  kind  of 
nonsense.  The  young  ladies  of  the  present  day — properly  edu- 
cated girls — do  not  talk  in  that  way. " 

"I  can  easily  believe  it,"  she  returned,  bitterly. 

"Miss  Hastings  is  in  the  library,"  said  Sir  Oswald,  as  they 
entered  the  house.  "I  hope  to  see  you  receive  her  kindly. 
Put  away  that  frown,  Pauline,  and  smile  if  you  can.  Remem- 
ber, it  is  characteristic  of  the  Darrells  to  be  gracious  to 
strangers. " 

With  these  words  Sir  Oswald  opened  the  library  door,  and 
holding  his  niece's  hand,  entered  the  room.  Miss  Hastings  rose 


"DARRELL  COURT  IS  A  PRISON  TO  MET    27 

to  receive  them.  He  led  Pauline  to  her,  and  in  the  kindest 
manner  possible  introduced  them  to  each  other. 

"I  will  leave  you  together/'  he  said.  "Pauline  will  show 
you  your  rooms,  Miss  Hastings ;  and  I  hope  that  you  will  soon 
feel  happy,  and  quite  at  home  with  us." 

Sir  Oswald  quitted  the  library,  leaving  the  two  ladies  looking 
in  silence  at  each  other. 


28      "FOUR  GOOD  SOCIETY  IS  ALL  DECEIT," 


CHAPTER  III. 


Miss  Hastings  had  been  prepared  to  see  a  hoiden,  an  awk- 
ward, unfledged  schoolgirl,  one  who,  never  having  seen  much 
of  good  society,  had  none  of  the  little  graces  and  charms  that 
distinguish  young  ladies.  She  had  expected  to  see  a  tall,  gaunt 
girl,  with  red  hands,  and  a  general  air  of  not  knowing  what  to 
do  with  herself — that  was  the  idea  she  had  formed.  She  gazed 
in  wonder  at  the  reality — a  magnificent  figure — a  girl  whose 
grand,  pale,  statuesque  beauty  was  something  that  could  never 
be  forgotten.  There  was  nothing  of  the  boarding-school  young 
lady  about  her ;  no  acquired  graces.  She  was  simply  magnificent 
— no  other  word  could  describe  her.  Miss  Hastings,  as  she 
looked  at  her,  thought  involuntarily  of  the  graceful  lines,  the 
beautiful  curves,  the  grand,  free  grace  of  the  world-renowned 
Diana  of  the  Louvre ;  there  was  the  same  arched,  graceful  neck, 
the  same  royal  symmetry,  the  same  harmony  of  outline. 

In  one  of  the  most  celebrated  art  galleries  of  Rome  Miss 
Hastings  remembered  to  have  seen  a  superb  bust  of  Juno ;  as 
she  looked  at  her  new  pupil,  she  could  almost  fancy  that  its 


"  YOUR  GOOD  SOCIETY  IS  ALL  DECEIT."     29 

head  had  been  modeled  from  hers.  Pauline's  head  was  royal  in 
its  queenly  contour  ;  the  brow  low,  white,  and  rounded  at  the 
temples ;  the  hair,  waving  in  lines  of  inexpressible  beauty,  was 
loosely  gathered  together  and  fastened  behind  with  a  gleaming 
silver  arrow.  The  eyes  were  perhaps  the  most  wonderful  feature 
in  that  wonderful  face  ;  they  were  dark  as  night  itself,  somewhat 
in  hue  like  a  purple  heartsease,  rich,  soft,  dreamy,  yet  at  times 
all  fire,  all  brightness,  filled  with  passion  more  intense  than  any 
words,  and  shining  then  with  a  strange  half-golden  light.  The 
brows  were  straight,  dark,  and  beautiful ;  the  lips  crimson,  full, 
and  exquisitely  shaped ;  the  mouth  looked  like  one  that  could 
persuade  or  contemn — that  could  express  tenderness  or  scorn, 
love  or  pride,  with  the  slightest  play  of  the  lips. 

Every  attitude  the  girl  assumed  was  full  of  unconscious  grace. 
She  did  not  appear  to  be  in  the  least  conscious  of  her  wonderful 
beauty.  She  had  walked  to  the  window,  and  stood  leaning 
carelessly  against  the  frame,  one  beautiful  arm  thrown  above  her 
head,  as  though  she  were  weary,  and  would  fain  rest — an  atti- 
tude that  could  not  have  been  surpassed  had  she  studied  it  for 
years. 

"You  are  not  at  all  what  I  expected  to  see,"  said  Miss  Hast- 
ings, at  last.  "You  are,  indeed,  so  different  that  I  am  taken 
by  surprise. " 

"Am  I  better  or  worse  than  you  had  imagined  me?"  she 
asked,  with  careless  scorn. 

"You  are  different — better,  perhaps,  in  some  things.     You 


30     "YOUR  GOOD  SOCIETY  IS  ALL  DECEIT." 

are  taller.     You  are  so  tall  that  it  will  be  difficult  to  remember 
you  are  a  pupil. " 

"The  Darrells  are  a  tall  race,"  .she  said,  quietly.  "Miss 
Hastings,  what  have  you  come  here  to  teach  me?" 

The  elder  lady  rose  from  her  seat  and  looked  lovingly  in  to  the 
face  of  the  girl ;  she  placed  her  hand  caressingly  on  the  slender 
shoulders. 

"I  know  what  I  should  like  to  teach  you,  Miss  Darrell,  if 
you  will  let  me.  I  should  like  to  teach  you  your  duty  to 
Heaven,  your  fellow-creatures,  and  yourself. " 

' '  That  would  be  dry  learning,  I  fear, "  she  returned.  ' '  What 
does  my  uncle  wish  me  to  learn  ?" 

"To  be  in  all  respects  a  perfectly  refined,  graceful  lady." 
Her  face  flushed  with  a  great  crimson  wave  that  rose  to  the 
white  brow  and  the  delicate  shell-like  ears. 

* '  I  shall  never  be  that, "  she  cried,  passionately.  ' '  I  may  just 
as  well  give  up  all  hopes  of  Darrell  Court.  I  have  seen  some 
ladies  since  I  have  been  here.  I  could  not  be  like  them.  They 
seem  to  speak  by  rule ;  they  all  say  the  same  kind  of  things, 
with  the  same  smiles,  in  the  same  tone  of  voice ;  they  follow 
each  other  like  sheep;  they  seem  frightened  to  advance  an 
opinion  of  their  own,  or  even  give  utterance  to  an  original 
thought.  They  look  upon  me  as  something  horrible,  because  I 
dare  to  say  what  I  think,  and  have  read  every  book  I  could 
find." 

"It  is  not  always  best  to  put  our  thoughts  in  speech;  and 
the  chances  are,  Miss  Darrell,  that,  if  you  have  read  every  book 


"FOUR  GOOD  SOCIETY  IS  ALL  DECEIT."     31 

you  could  find,  you  have  read  many  that  would  have  been  better 
left  alone.  You  are  giving  a  very  one-sided,  prejudiced  view 
after  all." 

She  raised  her  beautiful  head  with  a  gesture  of  superb  disdain. 

"There  is  the  same  difference  between  them  and  myself  as 
between  a  mechanical  singing  bird  made  to  sing  three  tunes  and 
a  wild,  sweet  bird  of  the  woods.  I  like  my  own  self  best. " 

"There  is  not  the  least  doubt  of  that/'  observed  Miss  Hast- 
ings, with  a  smile ;  ' '  but  the  question  is  not  so  much  what  we 
like  ourselves  as  what  others  like  in  us.  However,  we  will  dis- 
cuss that  at  another  time,  Miss  Darrell. " 

' '  Has  my  uncle  told  you  that  if  I  please  him — if  I  can  be 
molded  into  the  right  form — I  am  to  be  heiress  of  Darrell 
Court?"  she  asked,  quickly. 

' '  Yes ;  and  now  that  I  have  seen  you  I  am  persuaded  that 
you  can  be  anything  you  wish. " 

"Do  you  think,  then,  that  I  am  clever?"  she  asked,  eagerly. 

"I  should  imagine  so,"  replied  Miss  Hastings.  "Pauline — 
I  need  not  call  you  Miss  Darrell — I  hope  we  shall  be  friends ;  I 
trust  we  shall  be  happy  together. " 

"  It  is  not  very  likely,"  she  said,  slowly,  "that  I  can  like  you, 
Miss  Hastings." 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  governess,  astonished  at  her  frankness. 

' '  Because  you  are  to  correct  me ;  continual  correction  will  be 
a  great  annoyance,  and  will  prevent  my  really  liking  you. " 

Miss  Hastings  looked  astounded. 

"That  may  be,  Pauline,"  she  said;   "but  do  you  know  that 


32      "YOUR  GOOD  SOCIETY  IS  ALL  DECEIT." 

it  is  not  polite  of  you  to  say  so  ?  In  good  society  one  does  not 
tell  such  unpleasant  truths." 

"That  is  just  it,"  was  the  eager  retort ;  "that  is  why  I  do  not 
like  good  society,  and  shall  never  be  fit  for  it.  I  am  truthful  by 
nature.  In  my  father's  house  and  among  his  friends  there  was 
never  any  need  to  conceal  the  truth ;  we  always  spoke  it  frankly. 
If  we  did  not  like  each  other,  we  said  so.  But  here,  it  seems 
to  me,  the  first  lesson  learned  to  fit  one  for  society  is  to  speak 
falsely." 

"Not  so,  Pauline;  but,  when  the  truth  is  likely  to  hurt  an- 
other's feelings,  to  wound  susceptibility  or  pride,  why  speak  it, 
unless  it  is  called  for?" 

Pauline  moved  her  white  arms  with  a  superb  gesture  of  scorn. 

"I  would  rather  any  day  hear  the  truth  and  have  my  mind 
hurt,"  she  said,  energetically,  "than  feel  that  people  were 
smiling  at  me  and  deceiving  me.  Lady  Hampton  visits  Sir 
Oswald.  I  do  not  like  her,  and  she  does  not  like  me ;  but  she 
always  asks  Sir  Oswald  how  his  '  dear  niece '  is,  and  she  calls  me 
a  'sweet  creature — original,  but  very  sweet.'  You  can  see  for 
yourself,  Miss  Hastings,  that  I  am  not  that. " 

' '  Indeed,  you  are  not  sweet, "  returned  the  governess,  smiling  ; 
"but,  Pauline,  you  are  a  mimic,  and  mimicry  is  a  dangerous 
gift." 

She  had  imitated  Lady  Hampton's  languid  tones  and  affected 
accent  to  perfection. 

' '  Sir  Oswald  bows  and  smiles  all  the  time  Lady  Hampton  is 
talking  to  him ;  he  stands  first  upon  one  foot,  and  then  upon 


"FOUR  GOOD  SOCIETY  IS  ALL  DECEIT."     33 

the  other.  You  would  think,  to  listen  to  him,  that  he  was  so 
charmed  with  her  ladyship  that  he  could  not  exist  out  of  her 
presence.  Yet  I  have  seen  him  quite  delighted  at  her  departure, 
and  twice  I  heard  him  say  'Thank  Heaven' — it  was  for  the 
relief.  Your  good  society  is  all  deceit,  Miss  Hastings. " 

"1  will  not  have  you  say  that,  Pauline.  Amiability,  and  the 
desire  always  to  be  kind  and  considerate,  may  carry  one  to  ex- 
tremes at  times ;  but  I  am  inclined  to  prefer  the  amiability  that 
spares  to  the  truth  that  wounds. " 

"I  am  not,"  was  the  blunt  rejoinder.  "Will  you  come  to 
your  rooms,  Miss  Hastings  ?  Sir  Oswald  has  ordered  a  suite  to 
be  prepared  entirely  for  our  use.  I  have  three  rooms,  you  have 
four ;  and  there  is  a  study  that  we  can  use  together. " 

They  went  through  the  broad  stately  corridors,  where  the  warm 
sun  shone  in  at  the  windows,  and  the  flowers  breathed  sweetest 
perfume.  The  rooms  that  had  been  prepared  for  them  were 
bright  and  pleasant  with  a  beautiful  view  from  the  windows,  well 
furnished,  and  supplied  with  every  comfort.  A  sigh  came  from 
Miss  Hastings  as  she  gazed — it  was  all  so  pleasant.  But  it 
seemed  very  doubtful  to  her  whether  she  would  remain  or  not — 
very  doubtful  whether  she  would  be  able  to  make  what  Sir  Os- 
wald desired  out  of  that  frank,  free-spoken  girl,  who  had  not 
one  conventional  idea. 

"Sir  Oswald  is  very  kind,"  she  said,  at  length,  looking  around 
her ;  these  rooms  are  exceedingly  nice. " 

"They  are  nice,"  said  Pauline;  "but  I  was  happier  with  my 
father  in  the  Rue  d'Orme.  Ah  me,  what  liberty  we  had  there  1 


34      "YOUR  GOOD  SOCIETY  IS  ALL  DECEIT." 

In  this  stately  life  I  feel  as  though  I  were  bound  with  cords,  or 
shackled  with  chains — as  though  I  longed  to  stretch  out  my 
arms  and  fly  away. " 

Again  Miss  Hastings  sighed,  for  it  seemed  to  her  that  the 
time  of  her  residence  at  Darrell  Court  would  in  all  probability 
be  very  short. 


"YOU  ARE  GOING  TO  SPOIL  MY  LIFE."      35 


CHAPTER   IV. 

f'YOU   ARE    GOING   TO    SPOIL   MY   LIFE." 

Two  days  had  passed  since  Miss  Hastings'  arrival.  On  a 
beautiful  morning,  when  the  sun  was  shining  and  the  birds  were 
singing  in  the  trees,  she  sat  in  the  study,  with  an  expression  of 
deepest  anxiety,  of  deepest  thought  on  her  face.  Pauline,  with 
a  smile  on  her  lips,  sat  opposite  to  her,  and  there  was  profound 
silence.  Miss  Darrell  was  the  first  to  break  it. 

"Well/'  she  asked,  laughingly,  " what  is  your  verdict,  Miss 
Hastings  ?" 

The  elder  lady  looked  up  with  a  long,  deep-drawn  sigh. 

"I  have  never  been  so  completely  puzzled  in  all  my  life,"  she 
replied.  "My  dear  Pauline,  you  are  the  strangest  mixture  of 
ignorance  and  knowledge  that  I  have  ever  met  You  know  a 
great  deal,  but  it  is  all  of  the  wrong  kind  ;  you  ought  to  unlearn 
all  that  you  have  learned. " 

"You  admit  then  that  I  know  something." 

"Yes;  but  it  would  be  almost  better,  perhaps,  if  you  did  not. 
I  will  tell  you  how  I  feel,  Pauline.  I  know  nothing  of  build- 
ing, but  I  feel  as  though  I  had  been  placed  before  a  heap  of 


36       "  YOU  ARE  GOING  TO  SPOIL  MY  LIFE." 

marble,  porphyry,  and  granite,  of  wood,  glass,  and  iron,  and 
then  told  from  those  materials  to  shape  a  magnificent  palace.  I 
am  at  a  loss  what  to  do. " 

Miss  Darrell  laughed  with  the  glee  of  a  child.  Her  gover- 
ness, repressing  her  surprise,  continued  : 

"You  know  more  in  some  respects  than  most  educated 
women ;  in  other  and  equally  essential  matters  you  know  less 
than  a  child.  You  speak  French  fluently,  perfectly ;  you  have 
read  a  large  number  of  books  in  the  French  language — good, 
bad,  and  indifferent,  it  appears  to  me ;  yet  you  have  no  more 
idea  of  French  grammar  or  of  the  idiom  or  construction  of  the 
language  than  a  child. " 

"That,  indeed,  I  have  not;  I  consider  grammar  the  most 
stupid  of  all  human  inventions/' 

Miss  Hastings  offered  no  comment. 

"Again,"  she  continued,  "you  speak  good  English,  but  your 
spelling  is  bad,  and  your  writing  worse.  You  are  better 
acquainted  with  English  literature  than  I  am — that  is,  you  have 
read  more.  You  have  read  indiscriminately  ;  even  the  titles  of 
some  of  the  books  you  have  read  are  not  admissible. " 

The  dark  eyes  flashed,  and  the  pale,  grand  face  was  stirred  as 
though  by  some  sudden  emotion. 

"There  was  a  large  library  in  the  house  where  we  lived,"  she 
explained,  hurriedly,  "and  I  read  every  book  in  it.  I  read 
from  early  morning  until  late  at  night,  and  sometimes  from  night 
until  morning ;  there  was  no  one  to  tell  me  what  was  right  and 
what  was  wrong,  Miss  Hastings. " 


"YOU  ARE  GOING  TO  SPOIL  Mr  LIFE."      37 

"Then/'  continued  the  governess,  "you  have  written  a 
spirited  poem  on  Anne  Boleyn,  but  you  know  nothing  of  Eng- 
lish history — neither  the  dates  nor  the  incidents  of  a  single  reign. 
You  have  written  the  half  of  a  story,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid 
in  the  tropics,  yet  of  geography  you  have  not  the  faintest  notion. 
Of  matters  such  as  every  girl  has  some  idea  of — of  biography, 
of  botany,  of  astronomy — you  have  not  even  a  glimmer.  The 
chances  are,  that  if  you  engaged  in  conversation  with  any  sensi- 
ble person,  you  would  equally  astonish,  first  by  the  clever  things 
you  would  utter,  and  then  by  the  utter  ignorance  you  would 
display. " 

"I  cannot  be  flattered,  Miss  Hastings,"  Pauline  put  in,  "be- 
cause you  humiliate  me ;  nor  can  I  be  humiliated,  because  you 
flatter  me." 

But  Miss  Hastings  pursued  her  criticisms  steadily. 

"You  have  not  the  slightest  knowledge  of  arithmetic.  As 
for  knowledge  of  a  higher  class,  you  have  none.  You  are  dread- 
fully deficient.  You  say  that  you  have  read  Auguste  Comte, 
but  you  do  not  know  the  answer  to  the  first  question  in  your 
church  catechism.  Your  education  requires  beginning  all  over 
again.  You  have  never  had  any  settled  plan  of  study,  I  should 
imagine. " 

"No.  I  learned  drawing  from  Jules  Lacroix.  Talk  of 
talent,  Miss  Hastings.  You  should  have  known  him — he  was 
the  handsomest  artist  I  ever  saw.  There  was  something  so  pic- 
turesque about  him." 

''Doubtless,"  was  the  dry  response;   "but  I  think  'pictur- 


38       "YOU  ARE  GOING  TO  SPOIL  Mr  LIFE." 

esque '  is  not  the  word  to  use  in  such  a  case.  Music,  I  presume, 
you  thought  yourself?" 

The  girl's  whole  face  brightened — her  manner  changed. 

"  Yes,  I  taught  myself;  poor  papa  could  not  afford  to  pay  for 
my  lessons.  Shall  I  play  to  you,  Miss  Hastings  ?" 

There  was  a  piano  in  the  study,  a  beautiful  and  valuable  in- 
strument, which  Sir  Oswald  had  ordered  for  his  niece. 

"I  shall  be  much  pleased  to  hear  you/'  said  Miss  Hastings. 

Pauline  Darrell  rose  and  went  to  the  piano.  Her  face  then 
was  as  the  face  of  one  inspired.  She  sat  down  and  played  a  few 
chords,  full,  beautiful,  and  harmonious. 

' '  I  will  sing  to  you, "  she  said.  ' '  We  often  went  to  the  opera 
— papa,  Jules,  Louis,  and  myself.  I  used  to  sing  everything  I 
heard.  This  is  from  'II  Puritani.'" 

And  she  sang  one  of  the  most  beautiful  solos  in  the  opera. 

Her  voice  was  magnificent,  full,  ringing,  vibrating  with 
passion — a  voice  that,  like  her  face,  could  hardly  be  forgotten  ; 
but  she  played  and  sang  entirely  after  a  fashion  of  her  own. 

"Now,  Miss  Hastings,"  she  said,  "I  will  imitate  Adelina 
Patti." 

Face,  voice,  manner,  all  changed ;  she  began  one  of  the  far- 
famed  prima-donna's  most  admired  songs,  and  Miss  Hastings 
owned  to  herself  that  if  she  had  closed  her  eyes  she  might  have 
believed  Madame  Patti  present." 

"This  is  a  la  Christine  Nilsson,"  continued  Pauline;  and 
again  the  imitation  was  brilliant  and  perfect. 

The  magnificent  voice  did  not  seem  to  tire,  though  she  sang 


YOU  ARE  GOING  TO  SPOIL  MY  LIFE. 


39 


song  after  song,  and  imitated  in  the  most  marvelous  manner 
some  of  the  grandest  singers  of  the  day.  Miss  Hasting  left  her 
seat  and  went  up  to  her. 

"You  have  a  splendid  voice,  my  dear,  and  great  musical 
genius.  Now  tell  me,  do  you  know  a  single  note  of  music  ?" 

' '  Not  one, "  was  the  quick  reply. 

"You  know  nothing  of  the  keys,  time,  or  anything  else?" 

"Why  should  I  trouble  myself  when  I  could  play  without 
learning  anything  of  the  kind  ?" 

"But  that  kind  of  playing,  Pauline,  although  it  is  very  clever, 
would  not  do  for  educated  people. " 

"Is  it  not  good  enough  for  them?"  she  asked,  serenely. 

"No;  one  cannot  help  admiring  it,  but  any  educated  person 
hearing  you  would  detect  directly  that  you  did  not  know  your 
notes. " 

"Would  they  think  much  less  of  me  on  that  account?"  she 
asked,  with  the  same  serenity. 

"Yes;  every  one  would  think  it  sad  to  see  so  much  talent 
wasted.  You  must  begin  to  study  hard ;  you  must  learn  to  play 
by  note,  not  by  ear,  and  then  all  will  be  well.  You  love  music, 
Pauline?" 

How  the  beautiful  face  glowed  and  the  dark  eyes  shone. 

"I  love  it,"  she  said,  "because  I  can  put  my  whole  soul  into 
it — there  is  room  for  one's  soul  in  it.  You  will  be  shocked,  I 
know,  but  that  is  why  I  liked  Comte's  theories — because  they 
rilled  my  mind,  and  gave  me  so  much  to  think  of. " 

"Were  I  in  your  place  I  should  try  to  forget  them,  Pauline." 


40       "YOU  ARE  GOING  TO  SPOIL  MY  LIFE." 

"You  should  have  seen  Sir  Oswald's  face  when  I  told  him  I 
had  read  Comte  and  Darwin.  He  positively  groaned  aloud. " 

And  she  laughed  as  she  remembered  his  misery. 

' '  I  feel  very  much  inclined  to  groan  myself, "  said  Miss  Hast- 
ings. "You  shall  have  theories,  or  facts,  higher,  more  beauti- 
ful, nobler,  grander  far  than  any  Comte  ever  dreamed.  And 
now  we  must  begin  to  work  in  real  earnest. " 

But  Pauline  Darrell  did  not  move  ;  her  dark  eyes  were  shad- 
owed, her  beautiful  face  grew  sullen  and  determined. 

"You  are  going  to  spoil  my  life,"  she  said.  "Hitherto  it 
has  been  a  glorious  life — free,  gladsome,  and  bright ;  now  you 
are  going  to  parcel  it  out.  There  will  be  no  more  sunshiny 
hours ;  you  are  going  to  reduce  me  to  a  kind  of  machine,  to  cut 
off  all  my  beautiful  dreams,  my  lofty  thoughts.  You  want  to 
make  me  a  formal,  precise  young  lady,  who  will  laugh,  speak, 
and  think  by  rule. " 

"I  want  to  make  you  a  sensible  woman,  my  dear  Pauline/' 
corrected  Miss  Hastings,  gravely. 

"Who  is  the  better  or  the  happier  for  being  so  sensible?" 
demanded  Pauline. 

She  paused  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  she  added,  suddenly : 

"Darrell  Court  and  all  the  wealth  of  the  Darrells  are  not 
worth  it,  Miss  Hastings." 

"Not  worth  what,  Pauline?" 

"Not  worth  the  price  I  must  pay." 

"What  is  the  price?"  asked  Miss  Hastings,  calmly. 


"YOU  ARE  GOING  TO  SPOIL  MY  LIFE."      41 

"  My  independence,  my  freedom  of  action  and  thought,  my 
liberty  of  speech. " 

"Do  you  seriously  value  these  more  highly  than  all  that  Sir 
Oswald  could  leave  you?" 

"I  do — a  thousand  times  more  highly,"  she  replied. 

Miss  Hastings  was  silent  for  some  few  minutes,  and  then 
said : 

"We  must  do  our  best ;  suppose  we  make  a  compromise?  I 
will  give  you  all  the  liberty  that  I  honestly  can,  in  every  way,  and 
you  shall  give  your  attention  to  the  studies  I  propose.  I  will 
make  your  task  as  easy  as  I  can  for  you.  Darrell  Court  is  worth 
a  struggle." 

"Yes,"  was  the  half-reluctant  reply,  "it  is  worth  a  struggle, 
and  I  will  make  it." 

But  there  was  not  much  hope  in  the  heart  of  the  governess 
when  she  commenced  her  task. 


42  PAULINE'S  GOOD  POINTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 
PAULINE'S  GOOD  POINTS. 

How  often  Sir  Oswald's  simile  of  the  untrained,  unpruned, 
uncultivated  vine  returned  to  the  mind  of  Miss  Hastings! 
Pauline  Darrell  was  by  nature  a  genius,  a  girl  of  magnificent  in- 
tellect, a  grand,  noble,  generous  being  all  untrained.  She  had 
in  her  capabilities  of  the  greatest  kind — she  could  be  either  the 
very  empress  of  wickedness  or  angelic.  She  was  gloriously  en- 
dowed, but  it  was  impossible  to  tell  how  she  would  develop ; 
there  was  no  moderation  in  her,  she  acted  always  from  impulse, 
and  her  impulses  were  quick,  warm,  and  irresistible.  If  she 
had  been  an  actress,  she  would  surely  have  been  the  very  queen 
of  the  stage.  Her  faults  were  like  her  virtues,  all  grand  ones. 
There  was  nothing  trivial,  nothing  mean,  nothing  ungenerous 
about  her.  She  was  of  a  nature  likely  to  be  led  to  the  highest 
criminality  or  the  highest  virtue ;  there  could  be  no  medium  of 
mediocre  virtue  for  her.  She  was  full  of  character,  charming 
even  in  her  willfulness,  but  utterly  devoid  of  all  small  affecta- 
tions. There  was  in  her  the  making  of  a  magnificent  woman,  a 
great  heroine  ;  but  nothing  could  have  brought  her  to  the  level 


PAULINE'S  GOOD  POINTS.  43 

of  commonplace  people.  Her  character  was  almost  a  terrible 
one  in  view  of  the  responsibilities  attached  to  it. 

Grand,  daring,  original,  Pauline  was  all  force,  all  fire,  all 
passion.  Whatever  she  loved,  she  loved  with  an  intensity 
almost  terrible  to  witness.  There  was  also  no  ' '  middle  way  " 
in  her  dislikes — she  hated  with  a  fury  of  hate.  She  had  little 
patience,  little  toleration ;  one  of  her  greatest  delights  consisted 
in  ruthlessly  tearing  away  the  social  vail  which  most  people  loved 
to  wear.  There  were  times  when  her  grand,  pale,  passionate 
beauty  seemed  to  darken  and  to  deepen,  and  one  felt  instinct- 
ively that  it  was  in  her  to  be  cruel  even  to  fierceness ;  and  again, 
when  her  heart  was  touched  and  her  face  softened,  one  imagined 
that  she  might  be  somewhut  akin  to  the  angels. 

What  was  to  become  of  such  a  nature  ?  What  was  to  develop 
it — what  was  to  train  it  ?  If  from  her  infancy  Pauline  had  been 
under  wise  and  tender  guidance,  if  some  mind  that  she  felt  to 
be  superior  to  her  own  had  influenced  her,  the  certainty  is  that 
she  would  have  grown  up  into  a  thoughtful,  intellectual,  talent- 
ed woman,  one  whose  influence  would  have  been  paramount 
for  good,  one  to  whom  men  would  have  looked  for  guidance 
almost  unconsciously  to  themselves. 

But  her  training  had  been  terribly  defective.  No  one  had 
ever  controlled  her.  She  had  been  mistress  of  her  father's  house 
and  queen  of  his  little  coterie ;  with  her  quiet,  unerring  judg- 
ment, she  had  made  her  own  estimate  of  the  stiength,  the 
mind,  the  intellect  of  each  one  with  whom  she  came  in  contact, 
and  the  result  was  always  favorable  to  herself — she  saw  no  one 


44  PAULINE'S  GOOD  POINTS. 

superior  to  herself.  Then  the  society  in  which  her  father  had 
delighted  was  the  worst  possible  for  her  ;  she  reigned  supreme 
over  them  all — clever,  gifted  artists,  good-natured  Bohemians, 
who  admired  and  applauded  her,  who  praised  every  word  that 
fell  from  her  lips,  who  honestly  believed  her  to  be  one  of  the 
marvels  of  the  world,  who  told  her  continually  that  she  was  one 
of  the  most  beautiful,  most  talented,  most  charming  of  mortals, 
who  applauded  every  daring  sentiment  instead  of  telling  her 
plainly  that  what  was  not  orthodox  was  seldom  right — honest 
Bohemians,  who  looked  upon  the  child  as  a  wonder,  and  puz- 
zled themselves  to  think  what  destiny  was  high  enough  for  her 
— men  whose  artistic  tastes  were  gratified  by  the  sight  of  her 
magnificent  loveliness,  who  had  for  her  the  deepest,  truest,  and 
highest  respect,  who  never  in  her  presence  uttered  a  syllable  that 
they  would  not  have  uttered  in  the  presence  of  a  child — good- 
natured  Bohemians,  who  sometimes  had  money  and  sometimes 
had  none,  who  were  always  willing  to  share  their  last  sou  with 
others  more  needy  than  themselves,  who  wore  shabby,  thread- 
bare coats,  but  who  knew  how  to  respect  the  pure  presence  of  a 
pure  girl. 

Pauline  had  received  a  kind  of  education.  Her  father's  friends 
discussed  everything — art,  science,  politics,  and  literature — in 
her  presence ;  they  discussed  the  wildest  stories,  they  indulged 
in  unbounded  fun  and  satire,  they  were  of  the  wittiest  even  as 
they  were  of  the  cleverest  of  men.  They  ridiculed  unmercifully 
what  they  were  pleased  to  call  the  ' '  regulations  of  polite  socie- 
ty ;"  they  enjoyed  unvarnished  truth — as  a  rule,  the  more  dis- 


PAULINE'S  GOOD  POINTS.  45 

agreeable  the  truth  the  more  they  delighted  in  telling  it.  They 
scorned  all  etiquette,  they  pursued  all  dandies  and  belles  with 
terrible  sarcasm;  they  believed  in  every  wild  or  impossible 
theory  that  had  ever  been  started ;  in  fact,  though  honest  as  the 
day,  honorable,  and  true,  they  were  about  the  worst  associates  a 
young  girl  could  have  had  to  fit  her  for  the  world.  The  life  she 
led  among  them  had  been  one  long  romance,  of  which  she  had 
been  queen. 

The  house  in  the  Rue  d'Orme  had  once  been  a  grand  man- 
sion; it  was  filled  with  quaint  carvings,  old  tapestry,  and  the 
relics  of  a  by-gone  generation.  The  rooms  were  large — most  of 
them  had  been  turned  into  studios.  Some  of  the  finest  of 
modern  pictures  came  from  the  house  in  the  Rue  d'Orme, 
although,  as  a  rule,  the  students  who  worked  there  were  not 
wealthy. 

It  was  almost  amusing  to  see  how  this  delicate  young  girl 
ruled  over  such  society.  By  one  word  she  commanded  these 
great,  generous,  unworldly  men — with  one  little  white  finger  up- 
raised she  could  beckon  them  at  her  will ;  they  had  a  hundred 
pet  names  for  her — they  thought  no  queen  or  empress  fit  to  be 
compared  with  their  old  comrade's  daughter.  She  was  to  be  ex- 
cused if  constant  flattery  and  homage  had  made  her  believe  that 
she  was  in  some  way  superior  to  the  rest  of  the  world. 

When  the  great  change  came — when  she  left  the  Rue  d'Orme 
for  Darrell  Court — it  was  a  terrible  blow  to  Pauline  to  find  all 
this  superiority  vanish  into  thin  air.  In  place  of  admiration  and 
flattery,  she  heard  nothing  but  reproach  and  correction.  She 


46  PAULINE'S  GOOD  POINTS. 

was  given  to  understand  that  she  was  hardly  presentable  in  polite 
society — she,  who  had  ruled  like  a  queen  over  scholars  and 
artists  !  Instead  of  laughter  and  applause,  grim  silence  followed 
her  remarks.  She  read  in  the  faces  of  those  around  her  that 
she  was  not  as  they  were — not  of  their  world.  Her  whole  soul 
turned  longingly  to  the  beautiful  free  Bohemian  world  she  had 
left.  The  crowning  blow  of  all  was  when,  after  studying  her 
carefully  for  some  time,  Sir  Oswald  told  her  that  he  feared  her 
manners  were  against  her — that  neither  in  style  nor  in  education 
was  she  fitted  to  be  mistress  of  Darrell  Court.  She  had  submit- 
ted passively  to  the  change  in  her  name ;  she  was  proud  of  being 
a  Darrell — she  was  proud  of  the  grand  old  race  from  which  she 
had  sprung.  But,  when  Sir  Oswald  had  uttered  that  last  speech, 
she  flamed  out  in  fierce,  violent  passion,  which  showed  him  she 
had  at  least  the  true  Darrell  spirit. 

There  were  points  in  her  favor,  he  admitted.  She  was  mag- 
nificently handsome — she  had  more  courage  and  a  higher  spirit 
than  fall  even  to  the  lot  of  most  men.  She  was  a  fearless  horse- 
woman; indeed  it  was  only  necessary  for  any  pursuit  to  be 
dangerous  and  to  require  unlimited  courage  for  her  instantly  to 
undertake  it. 

Would  the  balance  at  last  turn  in  her  favor?  Would  her 
beauty,  her  spirits,  her  daring,  her  courage,  outweigh  defective 
education,  defective  manner,  and  want  of  worldly  knowledge? 


THE  PROGRESS  MADE  BY  THE  PUPIL.      47 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    PROGRESS    MADE    BY   THE    PUPIL. 

It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon  in  June.  May,  with  is  lilac  and 
hawthorn,  had  passed  away;  the  roses  were  in  fairest  bloom, 
lilies  looked  like  great  white  stars ;  the  fullness  and  beauty,  -the 
warmth  and  fragrance  of  summer  were  on  the  face  of  the  land, 
and  everything  living  rejoiced  in  it. 

Pauline  had  begged  that  the  daily  readings  might  take  place 
under  the  great  cedar  tree  on  the  lawn. 

' '  If  I  must  be  bored  by  dry  historical  facts, "  she  said,  ' '  let 
me  at  least  have  the  lights  and  shadows  on  the  lawn  to  look  at. 
The  shadow  of  the  trees  on  the  grass  is  beautiful  beyond  every- 
thing else.  Oh,  Miss  Hastings,  why  will  people  write  dull  his- 
tories? I  like  to  fancy  all  kings  heroes,  and  all  queens  heroines. 
History  leaves  us  no  illusions." 

' '  Still, "  replied  the  governess,  ' '  it  teaches  us  plenty  of  what 
you  love  so  much — truth." 

The  beautiful  face  grew  very  serious  and  thoughtful. 

"Why  are  so  many  truths  disagreeable  and  sad?  If  I  could 
rule,  I  would  have  the  world  so  bright,  so  fair  and  glad,  every 


48      THE  PROGRESS  MADE  BY  THE  PUPIL. 

one  so  happy.     I  cannot  understand  all  this  under-current  of 
sorrow. " 

"Comte  did  not  explain  it,  then,  to  your  satisfaction?"  said 
Miss  Hastings. 

"Comte  1"  cried  the  girl,  impatiently.  "I  am  not  obliged  to 
believe  all  I  read !  Once  and  for  all,  Miss  Hastings,  I  do  not 
believe  in  Comte  or  his  fellows.  I  only  read  what  he  wrote  be- 
cause people  seemed  to  think  it  clever  to  have  done  so.  You 
know — you  must  know — that  I  believe  in  our  great  Father. 
Who  could  look  round  on  this  lovely  world  and  not  do  so  ?" 

Miss  Hastings  felt  more  hopeful  of  the  girl  then  than  she  had 
evSr  felt  before.  Such  strange,  wild  theories  had  fallen  at  times 
from  her  lips  that  it  was  some  consolation  to  know  she  had  still 
a  child's  faith. 

Then  came  an  interruption  in  the  shape  of  a  footman,  with 
Sir  Oswald's  compliments,  and  would  the  ladies  go  to  the  draw- 
ing-room ?  There  were  visitors. 

''Who  are  they?"  asked  Miss  Darrell,  abruptly. 

The  man  replied  : 

"Sir  George  and  Lady  Hampton/ 

"I  shall  not  go,"  said  Pauline,  decidedly;  "that  woman 
sickens  me  with  her  false  airs  and  silly,  false  graces.  v  I  have  not 
patience  to  talk  to  her." 

"Sir  Oswald  will  not  be  pleased,"  remonstrated  Miss 
Hastings. 

' '  That  I  cannot  help — it  is  not  my  fault.  I  shall  not  make 
myself  a  hypocrite  to  please  Sir  Oswald. " 


THE  PROGRESS  MADE  BY  THE  PUPIL.       49 

"Society  has  duties  which  must  be  discharged,  and  which  do 
not  depend  upon  our  liking ;  we  must  do  our  duty  whether  we 
like  it  or  not" 

"I  detest  society,"  was  the  abrupt  reply — " it  is  all  a  sham  !" 

"Then  why  not  do  your  best  to  improve  it?  That  would 
surely  be  better  than  to  abuse  it. " 

"There  is  something  in  that,"  confessed  Miss  Darrell,  slowly. 

"If  we  each  do  our  little  best  toward  making  the  world  even 
ever  so  little  better  than  we  found  it,"  said  Miss  Hastings,  "we 
shall  not  have  lived  in  vain. " 

There  was  a  singular  grandeur  of  generosity  about  the  girl. 
If  she  saw  that  she  was  wrong  in  an  argument  or  an  opinion, 
she  admitted  it  with  the  most  charming  candor.  That  admis- 
sion she  made  now  by  rising  at  once  to  accompany  Miss 
Hastings. 

The  drawing-room  at  Darrell  Court  was  a  magnificent  apart- 
ment; it  had  been  furnished  under  the  superintendence  of  the 
late  Lady  Darrell,  a  lady  of  exquisite  taste.  It  was  all  white  and 
gold,  the  white  hangings  with  bullion  fringe  and  gold  braids, 
the  white  damask  with  a  delicate  border  of  gold  ;  the  pictures, 
the  costly  statues  gleamed  in  the  midst  of  rich  and  rare  flowers ; 
graceful  ornaments,  tall,  slender  vases  were  filled  with  choicest 
blossoms ;  the  large  mirrors,  with  their  golden  frames,  were  each 
and  all  perfect  in  their  way.  There  was  nothing  gaudy,  bril- 
liant, or  dazzling ;  all  was  subdued,  in  perfect  good  taste  and 
harmony. 

In  this  superb  room  the  beauty  of  Pauline  Darrell  always 


50      THE  PROGRESS  MADE  BY  THE  PUPIL. 

showed  to  great  advantage ;  she  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  its 
splendor.  As  she  entered  now,  with  her  usual  half-haughty, 
half-listless  grace,  Sir  Oswald  looked  up  with  admiration  plainly 
expressed  on  his  face. 

"What  a  queenly  mistress  she  would  make  for  the  Court,  if 
she  would  but  behave  like  other  people  !"  he  thought  to  himself, 
and  then  Lady  Hampton  rose  to  greet  the  girl. 

"My  dear  Miss  Darrell,  I  was  getting  quite  impatient;  it 
seems  an  age  since  I  saw  you — really  an  age." 

"It  is  an  exceedingly  short  one/'  returned  Pauline  ;  "I  saw 
you  on  Tuesday,  Lady  Hampton. " 

"Did  you?  Ah,  yes;  how  could  I  forget?  Ah,  my  dear 
child,  when  you  reach  my  age — when  your  mind  is  filled  with  a 
hundred  different  matters — you  will  not  have  such  a  good 
memory  as  you  have  now. " 

Lady  Hampton  was  a  little,  over-dressed  woman.  She  looked 
all  flowers  and  furbelows — all  ribbons  and  laces.  She  was, 
however,  a  perfect  mistress  of  all  the  arts  of  polite  society ;  she 
knew  exactly  what  to  say  and  how  to  say  it ;  she  knew  when  to 
smile,  when  to  look  sympathetic,  when  to  sigh.  She  was  not 
sincere  ;  she  never  made  the  least  pretense  of  being  so.  "So- 
ciety" was  her  one  idea — how  to  please  it,  how  to  win  its  ad- 
miration, how  to  secure  a  high  position  in  it. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  was  remarkable — the  young 
girl  with  her  noble  face,  her  grand  soul  looking  out  of  her  clear 
dark  eyes  ;  Lady  Hampton  with  her  artificial  smiles,  her  shifting 


THE  PROGRESS  MADE  BY  THE  PUPIL.       51 

glances,  and  would-be  charming  gestures.  Sir  Oswald  stood  by 
with  a  courtly  smile  on  his  face. 

11 1  have  some  charming  news  for  you,"  said  Lady  Hampton. 
' '  I  am  sure  you  will  be  pleased  to  hear  it,  Miss  Darrell. " 

"That  will  quite  depend  on  what  it  is  like,"  interposed 
Pauline,  honestly. 

*  You  dear,  droll  child  !  You  are  so  original ;  you  have  so 
much  character.  I  always  tell  Sir  Oswald  you  are  quite  different 
from  any  one  else." 

And  though  her  ladyship  spoke  smilingly,  she  gave  a  keen, 
quiet  glance  at  Sir  Oswald's  face,  in  all  probability  to  watch  the 
effect  of  her  words. 

"Ah,  well,"  she  continued,  "I  suppose  that  in  your  position 
a  little  singularity  may  be  permitted, "  and  then  she  paused,  with 
a  bland  smile. 

"To  what  position  do  you  allude?"  asked  Miss  Darrell. 

Lady  Hampton  laughed  again.  She  nodded  with  an  air  of 
great  penetration. 

"You  are  cautious,  Miss  Darrell.  But  I  am  forgetting  my 
news.  It  is  this — that  my  niece,  Miss  Elinor  Rocheford,  is 
coming  to  visit  me. " 

She  waited  evidently  for  Miss  Darrell  to  make  some  compli- 
mentary reply.  Not  a  word  came  from  the  proud  lips. 

"And  when  she  comes  I  hope,  Miss  Darrell,  that  you  and  she 
will  be  great  friends." 

"  It  is  rather  probable,  if  I  like  her, "  was  the  frank  reply. 


52      THE  PROGRESS  MADE  BY  THE  PUPIL. 

Sir  Oswald  looked  horrified.  Lady  Hampton  smiled  still 
more  sweetly. 

"You  are  sure  to  like  her.  Elinor  is  most  dearly  loved  wher- 
ever she  goes. " 

"Is  she  a  sweet  creature?"  asked  Pauline,  with  such  inimita- 
ble mimicry  that  Miss  Hastings  shuddered,  while  Sir  Oswald 
turned  pale. 

"She  is  indeed/'  replied  Lady  Hampton,  who,  if  she  under- 
stood the  sarcasm,  made  no  sign.  "With  Sir  Oswald's  permis- 
sion, I  shall  bring  her  to  spend  a  long  day  with  you,  Miss  Dar- 
rell." 

"I  shall  be  charmed,"  said  Sir  Oswald — "really  delighted, 
Lady  Hampton.  You  do  me  great  honor  indeed." 

He  looked  at  his  niece  for  some  little  confirmation  of  his 
words,  but  that  young  lady  appeared  too  haughty  for  speech ; 
the  word  "honor"  seemed  to  her  strangely  misapplied. 

Lady  Hampton  relaxed  none  of  her  graciousness ;  her  bland 
suavity  continued  the  same  until  the  end  of  the  visit ;  and  then, 
in  some  way,  she  contrived  to  make  Miss  Hastings  understand 
that  she  wanted  to  speak  with  her.  She  asked  the  governess  if 
she  would  go  with  her  to  the  carriage,  as  she  wished  to  consult 
her  about  some  music.  When  they  were  alone,  her  air  and 
manner  changed  abruptly.  She  turned  eagerly  to  her,  her  eyes 
full  of  sharp,  keen  curiosity. 

"Can  you  tell  me  one  thing?"  she  asked.  "Is  Sir  Oswald 
going  to  make  that  proud,  stupid,  illiterate  girl  his  heiress — mis- 
tress of  Darrell  Court?" 


THE  PROGRESS  MADE  BY  THE  PUPIL.       53 

"I  do  not  know/'  replied  Miss  Hastings.  "How  should  I. 
be  able  to  answer  such  a  question  ?" 

' '  Of  course  I  ask  in  confidence — only  in  strict  confidence  ; 
you  understand  that,  Miss  Hastings?" 

' '  I  understand, "  was  the  grave  reply. 

"All  the  county  is  crying  shame  on  him,"  said  her  ladyship. 
"A  French  painter's  daughter.  He  must  be  mad  to  think  of 
such  a  thing.  A  girl  brought  up  in  the  midst  of  Heaven  knows 
what  He  never  can  intend  to  leave  Darrell  Court  to  her." 

"He  must  leave  it  to  some  one,"  said  Miss  Hastings  ;  '*and 
who  has  a  better  right  to  it  than  his  own  sister's  child  ?" 

"Let  him  marry,"  she  suggested,  hastily;  "let  him  marry, 
and  leave  it  to  children  of  his  own.  Do  you  think  the  county 
will  tolerate  such  a  mistress  for  Darrell  Court — so  blunt,  so  igno- 
rant ?  Miss  Hastings,  he  must  marry. " 

"I  can  only  suppose,"  replied  the  governess,  "that  he  will 
please  himself,  Lady  Hampton,  without  any  reference  to  the 
county." 


54  CAPTAIN  LANGTON. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CAPTAIN      LANGTON. 

June,  with  its  roses  and  lilies,  passed  on,  the  laburnums  had 
all  fallen,  the  lilies  had  vanished,  and  still  the  state  of  affairs  at 
Darrell  Court  remained  doubtful.  Pauline,  in  many  of  those 
respects  in  which  her  uncle  would  fain  have  seen  her  changed, 
remained  unaltered — indeed  it  was  not  easy  to  unlearn  the  teach- 
ings of  a  life-time. 

Miss  Hastings,  more  patient  and  hopeful  than  Sir  Oswald, 
persevered,  with  infinite  tact  and  discretion.  But  there  were 
certain  peculiarities  of  which  Pauline  could  not  be  -broken. 
One  was  a  habit  of  calling  everything  by  its  right  name.  She 
had  no  notion  of  using  any  of  those  polite  little  fictions  society 
delights  in ;  no  matter  how  harsh,  how  ugly  the  word,  she  did 
not  hesitate  to  use  it.  Another  peculiarity  was  that  of  telling 
the  blunt,  plain,  abrupt  truth,  no  matter  what  the  cost,  no  mat- 
ter who  was  pained.  She  tore  aside  the  flimsy  vail  of  society 
with  zest ;  she  spared  no  one  in  her  almost  ruthless  denuncia- 
tions. Her  intense  scorn  for  all  kinds  of  polite  fiction  was  some- 
what annoying. 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON.  55 

"You  need  not  say  that  I  am  engaged,  James,"  she  said,  one 
day,  when  a  lady  called  whom  she  disliked.  "I  am  not  en- 
gaged, but  I  do  not  care  to  see  Mrs.  Camden." 

Even  that  bland  functionary  looked  annoyed.  Miss  Hastings 
tried  to  make  some  compromise. 

"You  cannot  send  such  a  message  as  that,  Miss  Darrell. 
Pray  listen  to  reason." 

1 '  Sir  Oswald  and  yourself  agreed  that  she  was " 

' '  Never  mind  that, "  hastily  interrupted  Miss  Hastings.  ' '  You 
must  not  hurt  any  one's  feelings  by  such  a  blunt  message  as 
that;  it  is  neither  polite  nor  well-bred." 

' '  I  shall  never  cultivate  either  politeness  or  good  breeding  at 
the  expense  of  truth ;  therefore  you  had  better  send  the  message 
yourself,  Miss  Hastings." 

"I  will  do  so,"  said  the  governess,  quietly.  "I  will  manage 
it  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  Mrs.  Camden  that  she  is  not  expect- 
ed to  call  again,  yet  so  as  not  to  humiliate  her  before  the  ser- 
vants ;  but,  remember,  not  at  any  sacrifice  of  truth. " 

Such  contests  were  of  daily,  almost  hourly,  occurrence. 
Whether  the  result  would  be  such  a  degree  of  training  as  to  fit 
the  young  lady  for  taking  the  position  she  wished  to  occupy, 
remained  doubtful. 

"  This  is  really  very  satisfactory, "  said  Sir  Oswald,  abruptly, 
one  morning,  as  he  entered  the  library,  where  Miss  Hastings 
awaited  him.  "But,"  he  continued,  "before  I  explain  myself, 
let  me  ask  you  how  are  you  getting  on — what  progress  are  you 
making  with  your  tiresome  pupil  ?" 


56  CAPTAIN  LANGTON. 

The  gentle  heart  of  the  governess  was  grieved  to  think  that 
she  could  not  give  a  more  satisfactory  reply.  Little  real  progress 
had  been  made  in  study ;  less  in  manner. 

"There  is  a  mass  of  splendid  material,  Sir  Oswald,"  she  said; 
"but  the  difficulty  lies  in  putting  it  into  shape." 

"I  am  afraid,"  he  observed,  "people  will  make  remarks; 
and  I  have  heard  more  than  one  doubt  expressed  as  to  what 
kind  of  hands  Darrell  Court  is  likely  to  fall  into  should  I  make 
Pauline  my  heiress.  You  see  she  is  capable  of  almost  anything. 
She  would  turn  the  place  into  an  asylum  ;  she  would  transform 
it  into  a  college  for  philosophers,  a  home  for  needy  artists — in 
fact,  anything  that  might  occur  to  her — without  the  least  hesita- 
tion. " 

Miss  Hastings  could  not  deny  it.  They  were  not  speaking  of 
a  manageable  nineteenth  century  young  lady,  but  of  one  to 
whom  no  ordinary  rules  applied,  whom  no  customary  measures 
fitted. 

"I  have  a  letter  here,"  continued  Sir  Oswald,  "from  Captain 
Aubrey  Langton,  the  son  of  one  of  my  oldest  and  dearest  friends. 
He  proposes  to  pay  me  a  visit,  and — pray,  Miss  Hastings,  par- 
don me  for  suggesting  such  a  thing,  but  I  should  be  so  glad  if 
he  would  fall  in  love  with  Pauline.  I  have  an  idea  that  love 
might  educate  and  develop  her  more  quickly  than  anything 
else." 

Miss  Hastings  had  already  thought  the  same  thing  ;  but  she 
knew  whoever  won  the  love  of  such  a  girl  as  Pauline  Darrell 
would  be  one  of  the  cleverest  of  men. 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON.  57 

"I  am  writing  to  him  to  tell  him  that  I  hope  he  will  remain 
with  us  for  a  month ;  and  during  that  time  I  hope,  I  fervently 
hope,  he  may  fall  in  love  with  my  niece.  She  is  beautiful 
enough.  Pardon  me  again,  Miss  Hastings,  but  has  she  ever 
spoken  to  you  of  love  or  lovers  ? 

' '  No.  She  is  in  that  respect,  as  in  many  others,  quite  unlike 
the  generality  of  girls.  I  have  never  heard  an  allusion  to  such 
matters  from  her  lips — never  once. " 

This  fact  seemed  to  Sir  Oswald  stranger  than  any  other ;  he 
had  an  idea  that  girls  devoted  the  greater  part  of  their  thoughts 
to  such  subjects. 

"Do  you  think,"  he  inquired,  "that  she  cared  for  any  one  in 
Paris — any  of  those  men,  for  instance,  whom  she  used  to  meet 
at  her  father's?" 

"No,"  replied  Miss  Hastings;  " I  do  not  think  so.  She  is 
strangely  backward  in  all  such  respects,  although  she  was 
brought  up  entirely  among  gentlemen. " 

"Among — pardon  me,  my  dear  madame,  not  gentlemen — 
members,  we  will  say,  of  a  gentlemanly  profession." 

Sir  Oswald  took  from  his  gold  snuff-box  a  pinch  of  most  deli- 
cately-flavored snuff,  and  looked  as  though  he  thought  the  very 
existence  of  such  people  a  mistake. 

' '  Any  little  influence  that  you  may  possess  over  my  niece, 
Miss  Hastings,  will  you  kindly  use  in  Captain  Langton's  favor? 
Of  course,  if  anything  should  come  of  my  plan — as  I  fervently 
hope  there  may — I  shall  stipulate  that  the  engagement  lasts  two 


58  CAPTAIN  LANGTON. 

years.  During  that  time  I  shall  trust  to  the  influence  of  love  to 
change  my  niece's  character. " 

It  was  only  a  fresh  complication — one  from  which  Miss  Hast- 
ings did  not  expect  much. 

That  same  day,  during  dinner,  Sir  Oswald  told  his  niece  of 
the  expected  arrival  of  Captain  Langton. 

"I  have  seen  so  few  English  gentlemen,"  she  remarked, 
"that  he  will  be  a  subject  of  some  curiosity  to  me." 

"You  will  find  him — that  is,  if  he  resembles  his  father — a 
high-bred,  noble  gentleman,"  said  Sir  Oswald,  complacently. 

"Is  he  clever?"  she  asked.      "What  does  he  do  ?" 

"Do !"  repeated  Sir  Oswald.      "I  do  not  understand  you." 

"Does  he  paint  pictures  or  write  books?" 

"Heaven  forbid  !"  cried  Sir  Oswald,  proudly.  " He  is  a  gen- 
tleman. " 

Her  face  flushed  hotly  for  some  minutes,  and  then  the  flush 
died  away,  leaving  her  paler  than  ever. 

"I  consider  artists  and  writers  gentlemen,"  she  retorted — 
"gentlemen  of  a  far  higher  stamp  than  those  to  whom  fortune 
has  given  money  and  nature  has  denied  brains. " 

Another  time  a  sharp  argument  would  have  resulted  from  the 
throwing  down  of  such  a  gantlet.  Sir  Oswald  had  something 
else  in  view,  so  he  allowed  the  speech  to  pass. 

' '  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  for  me  to  see  my  old  friend's  son 
again,"  he  said.  "I  hope,  Pauline,  you  will  help  me  to  make 
his  visit  a  pleasant  one. " 

"What  can  I  do?"  she  asked,  brusquely. 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON.  59 

"What  a  question!"  laughed  Sir  Oswald.  "Say,  rathjer, 
what  can  you  not  do  ?  Talk  to  him,  sing  to  him.  Your  voice 
is  magnificent,  and  would  give  any  one  the  greatest  pleasure. 
You  can  ride  out  with  him. " 

"If  he  is  a  clever,  sensible  man,  I  can  do  all  that  you  men- 
tion ;  if  not,  I  shall  not  trouble  myself  about  him.  I  never 
could  endure  either  tiresome  or  stupid  people. " 

"My  young  friend  is  not  likely  to  prove  either,"  said  Sir 
Oswald,  angrily ;  and  Miss  Hastings  wondered  in  her  heart  what 
the  result  of  it  all  would  be. 

That  same  evening  Miss  Darrell  talked  of  Captain  Langton, 
weaving  many  bright  fancies  concerning  him. 

"I  suppose,"  she  said,  "that  it  is  not  always  the  most  favor- 
able specimens  of  the  English  who  visit  Paris.  We  used  to  see 
such  droll  caricatures.  I  like  a  good  caricature  above  all  things 
— do  you,  Miss  Hastings  ?" 

' '  When  it  is  good,  and  pains  no  one, "  was  the  sensible  reply. 

The  girl  turned  away  with  a  little  impatient  sigh. 

"Your  ideas  are  all  colorless,"  she  said,  sharply.  "  In  Eng- 
land it  seems  to  me  that  everybody  is  alike.  You  have  no  in- 
dividuality, no  character. " 

"If  character  means,  in  your  sense  of  the  word,  ill-nature, 
so  much  the  better,"  rejoined  Miss  Hastings.  "All  good- 
hearted  people  strive  to  save  each  other  from  pain. " 

"I  wonder,"  said  Pauline,  thoughtfully,  "if  I  shall  like  Cap- 
tain Langton  !  We  have  been  living  here  quietly  enough  ;  but 
I  feel  as  though  some  great  change  were  coming.  You  have  no 


60  CAPTAIN  LANGTON. 

doubt  experienced  that  peculiar  sensation  which  comes  over  one 
just  before  a  heavy  thunder-storm  ?  I  have  that  strange,  half- 
nervous,  half-restless  sensation  now." 

"You  will  try  to  be  amiable,  Pauline,"  put  in  the  governess, 
quietly.  "You  see  that  Sir  Oswald  evidently  thinks  a  great 
deal  of  this  young  friend  of  his.  You  will  try  not  to  shock 
your  uncle  in  any  way — not  to  violate  those  little  conventionali- 
ties that  he  respects  so  much. " 

"I  will  do  my  best;  but  I  must  be  myself — always  myself. 
I  cannot  assume  a  false  character. " 

"Then  let  it  be  your  better  self,"  said  the  governess,  gently; 
and  for  one  minute  Pauline  Darrell  was  touched. 

"That  sweet  creature,  Lady  Hampton's  niece,  will  be  here 
next  week,"  she  remarked,  after  a  short  pause.  "What  changes 
will  be  brought  into  our  lives,  I  wonder?" 

Of  all  the  changes  possible,  least  of  all  she  expected  the 
tragedy  that  afterward  happened. 


THE  INTROD UCTION.  6 1 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE      INTRODUCTION. 

It  was  a  never-to-be-forgotten  evening  when  Captain  Langton 
reached  Darrell  Court — an  evening  fair,  bright,  and  calm.  The 
sweet  southern  wind  bore  the  perfume  of  flowers ;  the  faint  rip- 
ples of  the  fountains,  the  musical  song  of  the  birds,  seemed 
almost  to  die  away  on  the  evening  breeze ;  the  sun  appeared 
unwilling  to  leave  the  sapphire  sky,  the  flowers  unwilling  to 
close.  Pauline  had  lingered  over  her  books  until  she  could  re- 
main in-doors  no  longer ;  then,  by  Miss  Hastings'  desire,  she 
dressed  for  dinner — which  was  delayed  for  an  hour — and  after- 
ward went  into  the  garden. 

Most  girls  would  have  remembered,  as  they  dressed,  that  a 
handsome  young  officer  was  coming;  Miss  Darrell  did  not 
make  the  least  change  in  her  usual  toilet.  The  thin,  fine  dress 
of  crape  fell  in  statuesque  folds  round  the  splendid  figure ;  the 
dark  hair  was  drawn  back  from  the  beautiful  brow,  and  negli- 
gently fastened  with  her  favorite  silver  arrow;  the  white  neck 
and  fair  rounded  arms  gleamed  like  white  marble  through  the 
thin  folds  of  crape.  There  was  not  the  least  attempt  at  orna- 


62  THE  INTRODUCTION. 

merit;  yet  no  queen  arrayed  in  royal  robes  ever  looked  more 
lovely. 

Pauline  was  a  great  lover  of  the  picturesque.  With  a  single 
flower,  a  solitary  knot  of  ribbon,  she  could  produce  an  effect 
which  many  women  would  give  all  their  jewels  to  achieve. 
Whatever  she  wore  took  a  kind  of  royal  grace  from  herself  which 
no  other  person  could  impart.  Though  her  dress  might  be 
made  of  the  same  material  as  that  of  others,  it  never  looked  the 
same.  On  her  it  appeared  like  the  robes  of  a  queen. 

As  Pauline  was  passing  through  the  corridor,  Miss  Hastings 
met  her.  The  governess  looked  scrutinizingly  at  the  plain  even- 
ing dress ;  it  was  the  same  that  she  had  worn  yesterday.  Evi- 
dently there  was  no  girlish  desire  to  attract. 

"Pauline,  we  shall  have  a  visitor  this  evening,"  said  Miss 
Hastings;  "you  might  add  a  few  flowers  to  your  dress." 

She  passed  on,  with  a  smile  of  assent.  Almost  the  first  thing 
that  caught  her  attention  out  of  doors  was  a  large  and  handsome 
fuchsia.  She  gathered  a  spray  of  the  rich  purple  and  crimson 
flowers,  and  placed  it  negligently  in  her  hair.  Many  women 
would  have  stood  before  their  mirror  for  an  hour  without  pro- 
ducing the  same  superb  effect.  Then  she  placed  another  spray 
of  the  same  gorgeous  flowers  in  the  bodice  of  her  dress.  It 
was  all  done  without  effort,  and  she  would  have  been  the  last  in 
the  world  to  suspect  how  beautiful  she  looked.  Then  she  went 
on  to  the  fountain,  for  the  beautiful,  calm  evening  had  awakened 
all  the  poet's  soul  within  her.  The  grand,  sensitive  nature 
thrilled — the  beautiful,  poetic  mind  reveled  in  this  hour  of 


THE  INTRODUCTION.  63 

nature's  most  supreme  loveliness.  A  thousand  bright  fancies 
surged  through  her  heart  and  brain ;  a  thousand  poetical  ideas 
shaped  themselves  into  words,  and  rose  to  her  lips. 

So  time  passed,  and  she  was  unconscious  of  it,  until  a  shadow 
falling  over  the  great  white  lilies  warned  her  that  some  one  was 
near. 

Looking  up  quickly,  she  saw  a  tall,  fair,  handsome  young 
man  gazing  at  her  with  mingled  admiration  and  surprise.  Be- 
side him  stood  Sir  Oswald,  courtly,  gracious,  and  evidently  on 
the  alert. 

"Captain  Langton,"  he  said,  "let  me  introduce  you  to  my 
niece,  Miss  Darrell." 

Not  one  feature  of  ifae  girl's  proud,  beautiful  face  moved,  but 
there  was  some  little  curiosity  in  her  dark  eyes,  They  rested  for 
a  minute  on  the  captain's  face,  and  then,  with  a  dreamy  look, 
she  glanced  over  the  heads  of  the  white  lilies  behind  him.  He 
was  not  her  ideal,  not  her  hero,  evidently.  In  that  one  keen, 
quick  glance,  she  read  not  only  the  face,  but  the  heart  and  soul 
of  the  man  before  her. 

The  captain  felt  as  though  he  had  been  subjected  to  some 
wonderful  microscopic  examination. 

"She  is  one  of  those  dreadfully  shrewd  girls  that  pretend  to 
read  faces,"  he  said  to  himself,  while  he  bowed  low  before  her, 
and  replied  with  enthusiasm  to  the  introduction. 

"My  niece  is  quite  a  Darrell,"  said  Sir  Oswald,  proudly. 
' '  You  see  she  has  the  Darrell  face. " 

Again  the  gallant  captain  offered  some  flattering  remark — a 


64  THE  INTRODUCTION. 

neatly  turned  compliment,  which  he  considered  ought  to  have 
brought  her  down,  as  a  skillful  shot  does  a  bird — but  the  dark 
eyes  saw  only  the  lilies,  not  him. 

* '  She  is  proud,  like  all  the  Darrells, "  he  thought ;  ' '  my  father 
always  said  they  were  the  proudest  race  in  England. " 

' '  I  hope, "  said  Sir  Oswald,  courteously,  ' '  that  you  will  enjoy 
your  visit  here,  Aubrey.  Your  father  was  my  dearest  friend,  and 
it  gives  me  great  delight  to  see  you  here. " 

"I  am  sure  of  it,  Sir  Oswald.  I  am  equally  happy;  I  can- 
not see  how  any  one  could  be  dull  for  one  minute  in  this  grand 
old  place." 

"Sir  Oswald's  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  and  for  the  first 
time  the  dark  eyes  slowly  left  the  lilies  and  looked  at  the  captain. 

' '  I  find  not  only  one  minute,  but  many  hours  in  which  to  be 
dull,"  said  Pauline.  "Do  you  like  the  country  so  well  ?" 

1 '  I  like  Darrell  Court, "  he  replied,  with  a  bow  that  seemed  to 
embrace  Sir  Oswald,  his  niece,  and  all  his  possessions. 

"You  like  it — in  what  way?"  asked  Pauline,  in  her  terribly 
downright  manner.  "It  is  your  first  visit,  and  you  have  been 
here  only  a  few  minutes.  How  can  you  tell  whether  you  like 
it?" 

For  a  few  moments  Captain  Langton  looked  slightly  confused, 
and  then  he  rallied.  Surely  a  man  of  the  world  was  not  to  be 
defied  by  a  mere  girl. 

' '  I  have  seen  that  at  Darrell  Court, "  he  said,  deferentially, 
"which  will  make  the  place  dear  to  me  while  I  live." 


THE  INTRODUCTION.  65 

She  did  not  understand  him.  She  was  far  too  frank  and 
haughty  for  a  compliment  so  broad.  But  Sir  Oswald  smiled. 

"He  is  losing  no  time,"  thought  the  stately  old  baronet; 
"he  is  falling  in  love  with  her,  just  as  I  guessed  he  would." 

"I  will  leave  you,"  said  Sir  Oswald,  "to  get  better  acquaint- 
ed. Pauline,  you  will  show  Captain  Langton  the  aviary. " 

"Yes,"  she  assented,  carelessly.  "But  will  you  send  Miss 
Hastings  here  ?  She  knows  the  various  birds  far  better  than  I 
do." 

Sir  Oswald,  with  a  pleased  expression  on  his  face,  walked 
away. 

"So  you  have  an  aviary  at  the  Court,  Miss  Darrell.  It  seems 
to  me  there  is  nothing  wanting  here.  You  do  not  seem  inter- 
ested; you  do  not  like  birds?" 

"Not  caged  ones,"  she  replied.  "I  love  birds  almost  as 
though  they  were  living  friends,  but  not  bright-plumaged  birds 
in  golden  cages.  They  should  be  free  and  wild  in  the  woods 
and  forests,  filling  the  summer  air  with  joyous  song.  I  love 
them  well  then. " 

"You  like  unrestricted  freedom?"  he  observed. 

"I  do  not  merely  like  it,  I  deem  it  an  absolute  necessity.  I 
should  not  care  for  life  without  it. " 

The  captain  looked  more  attentively  at  her.  It  was  the  Dar- 
rell face,  surely  enough — features  of  perfect  beauty,  with  a  soul 
of  fire  shining  through  them. 

"Yet,"  he  said,  musingly,  cautiously  feeling  his  way,  "there 
is  but  little  freedom — true  freedom — for  women.  They  are 


66  THE  INTRODUCTION. 

bound  down  by  a  thousand  narrow  laws  and  observances — 
caged  by  a  thousand  restraints. " 

"There  is  no  power  on  earth,"  she  returned,  hastily,  "that 
can  control  thoughts  or  cage  souls ;  while  they  are  free,  it  is  un- 
true to  say  that  there  is  no  freedom." 

A  breath  of  fragrant  wind  came  and  stirred  the  great  white 
lilies.  The  gallant  captain  saw  at  once  that  he  should  only  lose 
in  arguments  with  her. 

"Shall  we  visit  the  aviary?"  he  asked. 

And  she  walked  slowly  down  the  path,  he  following. 

"She  is  like  an  empress/'  he  thought.  "It  will  be  all  the 
more  glory  for  me  if  I  can  win  such  a  wife  for  my  own. " 


THE  BROKEN  LILY.  67 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE      BROKEN      LILY. 

Pauline  Darrell  was  a  keen,  shrewd  observer  of  character. 
She  judged  more  by  small  actions  than  by  great  ones ;  it  was  a 
characteristic  of  hers.  When  women  have  that  gift,  it  is  more 
to  be  dreaded  than  the  cool,  calm,  matured  judgment  of  men. 
Men  err  sometimes  in  their  estimate  of  character,  but  it  is  very 
seldom  that  a  woman  makes  a  similar  mistake. 

The  garden  path  widened  where  the  tall  white  lilies  grew  in 
rich  profusion,  and  there  Pauline  and  Captain  Langton  walked 
side  by  side.  The  rich,  sweet  perfume  seemed  to  gather  round 
them,  and  the  dainty  flowers,  with  their  shining  leaves  and  gold- 
en bracts,  looked  like  great  white  stars. 

Captain  Langton  carried  a  small  cane  in  his  hand.  He  had 
begun  to  talk  to  Pauline  with  great  animation.  Her  proud  in- 
difference piqued  him.  He  was  accustomed  to  something  more 
like  rapture  when  he  devoted  himself  to  any  fair  lady.  He 
vowed  to  himself  that  he  would  vanquish  her  pride,  that  he 
would  make  her  care  for  him,  that  the  proud,  dark  eyes  should 
soften  and  brighten  for  him ;  and  he  gave  his  whole  mind  to  the 


68  THE  BROKEN  LILY. 

conquest.  As  he  walked  along,  one  of  the  tall,  white  lilies 
bent  over  the  path  ;  with  one  touch  of  the  cane  he  beat  it  down, 
and  Pauline  gave  a  little  cry,  as  though  the  blow  had  pained 
her.  She  stopped,  and  taking  the  slender  green  stem  in  her 
hand,  straightened  it;  but  the  blow  had  broken  one  of  the 
white  leaves. 

"Why  did  you  do  that?"  she  asked,  in  a  pained  voice. 

"It  is  only  a  flower,"  he  replied,  with  a  laugh. 

"Only  a  flower!  You  have  killed  it.  You  cannot  make  it 
live  again.  Why  need  you  have  cut  its  sweet  life  short  ?" 

"It  will  not  be  missed  from  among  so  many,"  he  said. 

"You  might  say  the  same  thing  of  yourself,"  she  retorted. 
"The  world  is  full  of  men,  and  you  would  hardly  be  missed 
from  so  many;  yet  you  would  not  like " 

"There  is  some  little  difference  between  a  man  and  a  flower, 
Miss  Darrell,"  he  interrupted,  stiffly. 

' '  There  is,  indeed ;  and  the  flowers  have  the  advantage, "  she 
retorted. 

The  captain  solaced  himself  by  twisting  his  mustache,  and  re- 
lieved his  feelings  by  some  few  muttered  words,  which  Miss 
Darrell  did  not  hear.  In  her  quick,  impulsive  way,  she  judged 
him  at  once. 

"He  is  cruel  and  selfish,"  she  thought;  "he  would  not  even 
stoop  to  save  the  life  of  the  sweetest  flower  that  blows.  He 
shall  not  forget  killing  that  lily, "  she  continued,  as  she  gathered 
the  broken  chalice,  and  placed  it  in  her  belt.  "Every  time  he 
looks  at  me."  she  said,  "he  shall  remember  what  he  has  done." 


THE  BROKEN  LILY.  69 

The  captain  evidently  understood  her  amiable  intention,  and 
liked  her  accordingly.  They  walked  on  for  some  minutes  in 
perfect  silence ;  then  Pauline  turned  to  him  suddenly. 

' '  Have  you  been  long  in  the  army,  Captain  Langton  ?" 

Flattered  by  a  question  that  seemed  to  evince  some  personal 
interest,  he  hastened  to  reply : 

"  More  than  eight  years.     I  joined  when  I  was  twenty." 

"  Have  you  seen  any  service?"  she  asked. 

1 '  No, "  he  replied.  ' '  My  regiment  had  been  for  many  years 
in  active  service  just  before  I  joined,  so  that  we  have  been  at 
home  since  then." 

"  In  inglorious  ease,"  she  said. 

' '  We  are  ready  for  work, "  he  returned,  ' '  when  work  comes. " 

"  How  do  you  employ  your  time?"  she  asked ;  and  again  he 
was  nattered  by  the  interest  that  the  question  showed.  His  face 
flushed.  Here  was  a  grand  opportunity  of  showing  this  haughty 
girl,  this  "proudest  Darrell  of  them  all,"  that  he  was  eagerly 
sought  after  in  society  such  as  she  had  not  yet  seen. 

"You  have  no  conception  of  the  immense  number  of  en- 
gagements that  occupy  our  time,"  he  replied;  "I  am  fond  of 
horses — I  take  a  great  interest  in  all  races. " 

If  he  had  added  that  he  was  one  of  the  greatest  gamblers  on 
the  turf,  he  would  have  spoken  truthfully. 

"Horse  racing,"  said  Miss  Darrell — "that  is  the  favorite  oc- 
cupation of  English  gentlemen,  is  it  not?" 

"I  should  imagine  so.     Then  I  am  considered — you  must 


70  THE  BROKEN  LILY. 

pardon  my  boasting — one  of  the  best  billiard  players  in  Lon- 
don." 

"That  is  not  much  of  a  boast,"  she  remarked,  with  such 
quiet  contempt  that  the  captain  could  only  look  at  her  in  sheer 
wonder. 

"There  are  balls,  operas,  parties,  suppers — I  cannot  tell 
what;  and  the  ladies  engross  a  great  deal  of  our  time.  We  sol- 
diers never  forget  our  devotion  and  chivalry  to  the  fair  sex,  Miss 
Darrell." 

"The  fair  sex  should  be  grateful  that  they  share  your  atten- 
tion with  horses  and  billiards, "  she  returned.  ' '  But  what  else 
do  you  do,  Captain  Langton  ?  I  was  not  thinking  of  such  trifles 
as  these. " 

"Trifles  !"  he  repeated.  "I  do  not  call  horse  racing  a  trifle. 
I  was  within  an  inch  of  winning  the  Derby — I  mean  to  say  a 
horse  of  mine  was.  If  you  call  that  a  trifle,  Miss  Darrell,  you 
go  near  to  upsetting  English  society  altogether. " 

' '  But  what  great  things  do  you  do  ?"  she  repeated,  her  dark 
eyes  opening  wider.  "You  cannot  mean  seriously  that  this  is 
all.  Do  you  never  write,  paint — have  you  no  ambition  at  all  ?" 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  call  ambition,"  he  replied,  sullenly  ; 
"as  for  writing  and  painting,  in  England  we  pay  people  to  do 
that  kind  of  thing  for  us.  You  do  not  think  that  I  would 
paint  a  picture,  even  if  I  could  ?" 

"I  should  think  you  clever  if  you  did  that,"  she  returned; 
"at  present  I  cannot  see  that  you  do  anything  requiring  mind 
or  intellect." 


THE  BROKEN  LILY.  71 

"Miss  Darrell,"  he  said,  looking  at  her,  "you  are  a  radical, 
I  believe." 

"A  radical?"  she  repeated,  slowly.  "I  am  not  quite  sure, 
Captain  Langton,  that  I  know  what  that  means. " 

"You  believe  in  aristocracy  of  intellect,  and  all  that  kind  of 
nonsense,"  he  continued.  "Why  should  a  man  who  paints  a 
picture  be  any  better  than  the  man  who  understands  the  good 
points  of  a  horse?" 

"Why,  indeed?"  she  asked,  satirically.  "We  will  not  argue 
the  question,  for  we  should  not  agree. " 

"I  had  her  there,"  thought  the  captain.  "She  could  not 
answer  me.  Some  of  these  women  require  a  high  hand  to  keep 
them  in  order." 

"I  do  not  see  Miss  Hastings,"  she  said  at  last,  "and  it  is 
quite  useless  going  to  the  aviary  without  her.  I  do  not  remem- 
ber the  name  of  a  single  bird ;  and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  care 
for  them. " 

"But/  he  returned,  hesitatingly,  "Sir  Oswald  seemed  to 
wish  it." 

"There  is  the  first  dinner-bell,"  she  said,  with  an  air  of  great 
relief;  "there  will  only  just  be  time  to  return.  As  you  seem 
solicitous  about  Sir  Oswald's  wishes  we  had  better  go  in,  for  he 
dearly  loves  punctuality. " 

' '  I  believe, "  thought  the  captain,  ' '  that  she  is  anxious  to  get 
away  from  me.  I  must  say  that  I  am  not  accustomed  to  this 
kind  of  thing." 

The  aspect  of  the  dining-room,  with  its  display  of  fine  old 


72  THE  BROKEN  LILY. 

plate,  the  brilliantly  arranged  tables,  the  mingled  odor  of  rare 
wines  and  flowers,  restored  him  to  good  humor. 

"It  would  be  worth  some  little  trouble/'  he  thought,  "to  win 
all  this." 

He  took  Pauline  in  to  dinner.  The  grand,  pale,  passionate 
beauty  of  the  girl  had  never  shown  to  greater  advantage  than.it 
did  this  evening,  as  she  sat  with  the  purple  and  crimson  fuchsias 
in  her  hair  and  the  broken  lily  in  her  belt.  Sir  Oswald  did  not 
notice  the  latter  until  dinner  was  half  over.  Then  he  said  : 

1 '  Why,  Pauline,  with  gardens  and  hothouses  full  of  flowers, 
have  you  chosen  a  broken  one  ?" 

"To  me  it  is  exquisite,"  she  replied. 

The  captain's  face  darkened  for  a  moment,  but  he  would  not 
take  offense.  The  elegantly  appointed  table,  the  seductive  din- 
ner, the  rare  wines,  all  made  an  impression  on  him.  He  said 
to  himself  that  there  was  a  good  thing  offered  to  him,  and  that 
a  girl's  haughty  temper  should  not  stand  in  his  way.  He  made 
himself  most  agreeable,  he  was  all  animation,  vivacity,  and  high 
spirits  with  Sir  Oswald.  He  was  deferential  and  attentive  to 
Miss  Hastings,  and  his  manner  to  Pauline  left  no  doubt  in  the 
minds  of  the  lookers  on  that  he  was  completely  fascinated  by 
her.  She  was  too  proudly  indifferent,  too  haughtily  careless, 
even  to  resent  it.  Sir  Oswald  Darrell  was  too  true  a  gentleman 
to  offer  his  niece  to  any  one ;  but  he  had  given  the  captain  to 
understand  that,  if  he  could  woo  her  and  win  her,  there  would 
be  no  objection  raised  on  his  part. 


THE  BROKEN  LILY.  73 

For  once  in  his  life  Captain  Langton  had  spoken  quite  truth- 
fully. 

"I  have  nothing/'  he  said;  "my  father  left  me  but  a  very 
moderate  fortune,  and  I  have  lost  the  greater  part  of  it.  I  have 
not  been  careful  or  prudent,  Sir  Oswald. " 

' '  Care  and  prudence  are  not  the  virtues  of  youth, "  Sir  Oswald 
returned.  "I  may  say,  honestly,  I  should  be  glad  if  your 
father's  son  could  win  my  niece ;  as  for  fortune,  she  will  be  richly 
dowered  if  I  make  her  my  heiress.  Only  yesterday  I  heard  that 
coal  had  been  found  on  my  Scotch  estates,  and,  if  that  be  true, 
it  will  raise  my  income  many  thousands  per  annum. " 

"May  you  long  live  to  enjoy  your  wealth,  Sir  Oswald  !"  said 
the  young  man,  so  heartily  that  tears  stood  in  the  old  baronet's 
eyes. 

But  there  was  one  thing  the  gallant  captain  did  not  confess. 
He  did  not  tell  Sir  Oswald  Darrell — what  was  really  the  truth — • 
that  he  was  over  head  and  ears  in  debt,  and  that  this  visit  to 
Darrell  Court  was  the  last  hope  left  to  him. 


74  PAULINE  STILL  INCORRIGIBLE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PAULINE    STILL    INCORRIGIBLE. 

Sir  Oswald  lingered  over  his  wine.  It  was  not  every  day  that 
he  found  a  companion  so  entirely  to  his  taste  as  Captain  Lang- 
ton.  The  captain  had  a  collection  of  anecdotes  of  the  court, 
the  aristocracy,  and  the  mess-room,  that  could  not  be  surpassed. 
He  kept  his  own  interest  well  in  view  the  whole  time,  making 
some  modest  allusions  to  the  frequency  with  which  his  society 
was  sought,  and  the  number  of  ladies  who  were  disposed  to  re- 
gard him  favorably.  All  was  narrated  with  the  greatest  skill, 
without  the  least  boasting,  and  Sir  Oswald,  as  he  listened  with 
delight,  owned  to  himself  that,  all  things  considered,  he  could 
not  have  chosen  more  wisely  for  his  niece. 

A  second  bottle  of  fine  old  port  was  discussed,  and  then  Sir 
Oswald  said  : 

"You  will  like  to  go  to  the  drawing-room ;  the  ladies  will  be 
there.  I  always  enjoy  forty  winks  after  dinner. " 

The  prospect  of  a  tete-a-tete  with  Miss  Darrell  did  not  strike 
the  captain  as  being  a  very  rapturous  one. 

"She  is,"  he  said  to  himself,    "a  magnificently  handsome 


PAULINE  STILL  INCORRIGIBLE.  75 

girl,  but  almost  too  haughty  to  be  bearable.  I  have  never,  in 
all  my  life,  felt  so  small  as  I  do  when  she  speaks  to  me  or  looks 
at  me,  and  no  man  likes  that  sort  of  thing." 

But  Darrell  Court  was  a  magnificent  estate,  the  large  annual 
income  was  a  sum  he  had  never  even  dreamed  of,  and  all  might 
be  his — Sir  Oswald  had  said  so ;  his,  if  he  could  but  win  the 
proud  heart  of  the  proudest  girl  it  had  ever  been  his  fortune  to 
meet.  The  stake  was  well  worth  going  through  something  dis- 
agreeable for. 

"If  she  were  only  like  other  women/'  he  thought,  "I  should 
know  how  to  manage  her  ;  but  she  seems  to  live  in  the  clouds." 

The  plunge  had  to  be  made,  so  the  captain  summoned  all  his 
courage,  and  went  to  the  drawing-room.  The  picture  there 
must  have  struck  the  least  imaginative  of  men. 

Miss  Hastings,  calm,  elegant,  lady-like,  in  her  quiet  evening 
dress  of  gray  silk,  was  seated  near  a  small  stand  on  which  stood 
a  large  lamp,  by  the  light  of  which  she  was  reading.  The  part 
of  the  room  near  her  was  brilliantly  illuminated.  It  was  a  spa- 
cious apartment — unusually  so  even  for  a  large  mansion.  It 
contained  four  large  windows,  two  of  which  were  closed,  the 
gorgeous  hangings  of  white  and  gold  shielding  them  from  view ; 
the  other  end  of  the  room  was  in  semi-darkness,  the  brilliant 
light  from  the  lamp  not  reaching  it — the  windows  were  thrown 
wide  open,  and  the  soft,  pale  moonlight  came  in.  The  evening 
came  in,  too,  bringing  with  it  the  sweet  breath  of  the  lilies,  the 
perfume  of  the  roses,  the  fragrance  of  rich  clover,  carnations, 
and  purple  heliotropes.  Faint  shadows  lay  on  the  flowers,  the 


76  PAULINE  STILL  INCORRIGIBLE. 

white  silvery  light  was  very  peaceful  and  sweet ;  the  dewdrops 
shone  on  the  grass — it  was  the  fairest  hour  of  nature's  fair  day. 

Pauline  had  gone  to  the  open  window.  Something  had  made 
her  restless  and  unquiet ;  but,  standing  there,  the  spell  of  that 
beautiful  moonlit  scene  calmed  her,  and  held  her  fast.  With 
one  look  at  that  wonderful  sky  and  its  myriad  stars,  one  at  the 
soft  moonlight  and  the  white  lilies,  the  fever  of  life  died  from 
her,  and  a  holy  calm,  sweet  fancies,  bright  thoughts,  swept  over 
her  like  an  angel's  wing. 

Then  she  became  conscious  of  a  stir  in  the  perfumed  air  ; 
something  less  agreeable  mingled  with  the  fragrance  of  the  lilies 
— some  scent  of  which  she  did  not  know  the  name,  but  which 
she  disliked  ever  afterward  because  the  captain  used  it.  A  low 
voice  that  would  fain  be  tender  murmured  something  in  her 
ear ;  the  spell  of  the  moonlight  was  gone,  the  quickly  throng- 
ing poetical  fancies  had  all  fled  away,  the  beauty  seemed  to  have 
left  even  the  sleeping  flowers.  Turning  round  to  him,  she  said, 
in  a  clear  voice,  every  word  sounding  distinctly  : 

"Have  the  goodness,  Captain  Langton,  not  to  startle  me 
again.  I  do  not  like  any  one  to  come  upon  me  in  that  unex- 
pected manner." 

"I  was  so  happy  to  find  you  alone,"  he  whispered. 

"  I  do  not  know  why  that  should  make  you  happy.  I  always 
behave  much  better  when  I  am  with  Miss  Hastings  than  when  I 
am  alone." 

"You  are  always  charming,"  he  said.      "I  want  to  ask  you 


PAULINE  STILL  INCORRIGIBLE.  77 

something,  Miss  Darrell.  Be  kind,  be  patient,  and  listen  to 
me." 

' '  I  am  neither  kind  nor  patient  by  nature, "  she  returned  ; 
"what  have  you  to  say?" 

It  was  very  difficult,  he  felt,  to  be  sentimental  with  her.  She 
had  turned  to  the  window,  and  was  looking  out  again  at  the 
flowers ;  one  little  white  hand  played  impatiently  with  a  branch 
of  guelder  roses  that  came  peeping  in. 

' '  I  am  jealous  of  those  flowers, "  said  the  captain  ;  ' '  will  you 
look  at  me  instead  of  them  ?" 

She  raised  her  beautiful  eyes,  and  looked  at  him  so  calmly, 
with  so  much  conscious  superiority  in  her  manner,  that  the  cap- 
tain felt  "smaller"  than  ever. 

"You  are  talking  nonsense  to  me, "  sh£  said,  loftily;  "and 
as  I  do  not  like  nonsense,  will  you  tell  me  what  you  have  to 
say?" 

The  voice  was  calm  and  cold,  the  tones  measured  and  slightly 
contemptuous ;  it  was  very  difficult  under  such  circumstances  to 
be  an  eloquent  wooer,  but  the  recollection  of  Darrell  Court  and 
its  large  rent-roll  came  to  him  and  restored  his  fast  expiring 
courage. 

"I  want  to  ask  a  favor  of  you,"  he  said  ;  and  the  pleading 
expression  that  he  managed  to  throw  into  his  face  was  really 
creditable  to  him.  "I  want  to  ask  you  if  you  will  be  a  little 
kinder  to  me.  I  admire  you  so  much  that  I  should  be  the  hap- 
piest man  in  all  the  world  if  you  would  but  give  me  ever  so  little 
of  your  friendship. " 


78  PAULINE  STILL  INCORRIGIBLE. 

She  seemed  to  consider  his  words — to  ponder  them  ;  and  from 
her  silence  he  took  hope. 

"I  am  quite  unworthy,  I  know;  but,  if  you  knew  how  all 
my  life  long  I  have  desired  the  friendship  of  a  good  and  noble 
woman,  you  would  be  kinder  o  me — you  would  indeed  !" 

"Do  you  think,  then,  that  I  am  good  and  noble  ?"  she  asked. 

"Lam  sure  of  it;  your  face " 

"I  wish,"  she  interrupted,  "that  Sir  Oswald  were  of  your 
opinion.  You  have  lived  in  what  people  call  'the  world'  all 
your  life,  Captain  Langton,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  wondering  what  would  follow. 

"You  have  been  in  society  all  that  time,  yet  I  am  the  first 
'good  and  noble  woman'  you  have  met !  You  are  hardly  com- 
plimentary to  the  sexf  after  all. 

The  captain  was  slightly  taken  aback. 

"I  did  not  say  those  exact  words,  Miss  Darrell." 

"But  you  implied  them.  Tell  me  why  you  wish  for  my 
friendship  more  than  any  other.  Miss  Hastings  is  ten  thousand 
times  more  estimable  than  I  am — why  not  make  her  your 
friend  ?" 

' '  I  admire  you — I  like  you.  I  could  say  more,  but  I  dare 
not.  You  are  hard  upon  me,  Miss  Darrell." 

"I  have  no  wish  to  be  hard,"  she  returned.  "Who  am  I 
that  I  should  be  hard  upon  any  one  ?  But,  you  see,  I  am  un- 
fortunately what  people  call  very  plain-spoken — very  truthkil. " 

"So  much  the  better,"  said  Captain  Langton. 

"Is  it?   .  Sir  Oswald  says  not.     If  he  does  not  make  me  his 


PAULINE  STILL  INCORRIGIBLE.  79 

heiress,  it  will  be  because  I  have  such  an  abrupt  manner  of 
speaking ;  he  often  tells  me  so. " 

"Truth  in  a  beautiful  woman/'  began  the  captain,  sentiment- 
ally ;  but  Miss  Darrell  again  interrupted  him — she  had  little  pa- 
tience with  his  platitudes. 

' '  You  say  you  wish  for  my  friendship  because  you  like  me. 
Now,  here  is  the  difficulty — I  cannot  give  it  to  you,  because  I 
do  not  like  you." 

"You  do  not  like  me?"  cried  the  captain,  hardly  able  to  be- 
lieve the  evidence  of  his  own  senses.  ' '  You  cannot  mean  it ! 
You  are  the  first  person  who  ever  said  such  a  thing  !" 

"Perhaps  I  am  not  the  first  who  ever  thought  it;  but  then, 
as  I  tell  you,  I  am  very  apt  to  say  what  I  think. " 

"Will  you  tell  me  why  you  do  not  like  me?"  asked  the  cap- 
tain, quietly.  He  began  to  see  that  nothing  could  be  gained  in 
any  other  fashion. 

Her  beautiful  face  was  raised  quite  calmly  to  his,  her  dark 
eyes  were  as  proudly  serene  as  ever,  she  was  utterly  unconscious 
that  she  was  saying  anything  extraordinary. 

"I  will  tell  you  with  pleasure,"  she  replied.  "You  seem  to 
me  wanting  in  truth  and  earnestness ;  you  think  people  are  to 
be  pleased  by  flattery.  You  flatter  Sir  Oswald,  you  flatter  Miss 
Hastings,  you  flatter  me.  Being  agreeable  is  all  very  well,  but 
an  honest  man  does  not  need  to  flatter — does  not  think  of  it,  in 
fact  Then,  you  are  either  heedless  or  cruel — I  do  not  know 
which.  Why  should  you  kill  that  beautiful  flower  that  Heaven 


8o  PA  ULINE  STILL  INCORRIGIBLE. 

made  to  enjoy  the  sunshine,  just  for  one  idle  moment's  wanton 
sport  ?" 

Captain  Langton's  face  grew  perfectly  white  with  anger. 

"Upon  my  word  of  honor,"  he  said,  "I  never  heard  anything 
like  this  1" 

Miss  Darrell  turned  carelessly  away. 

"You  see,"  she  said,  "friendship  between  us  would  be  rather 
difficult.  But  I  will  not  judge  too  hastily ;  I  will  wait  a  few 
days,  and  then  decide." 

She  had  quitted  the  room  before  Captain  Langton  had  suffi- 
ciently recovered  from  his  dismay  to  answer. 


HOW  WILL  IT  ENDS  81 


CHAPTER  XL 

HOW      WILL      IT      END? 

It  was  some  minutes  before  Captain  Langton  collected  him- 
self sufficiently  to  cross  the  room  and  speak  to  Miss  Hastings. 
She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  smile. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  not  had  a  very  pleasant  time  of  it  at 
that  end  of  the  room,  Captain  Langton, "  she  said  ;  "I  was  just 
on  the  point  of  interfering." 

"Your  pupil  is  a  most  extraordinary  young  lady,  Miss  Hast- 
ings/' he  returned ;  "I  have  never  met  with  any  one  more  so." 

Miss  Hastings  laughed ;  there  was  an  expression  of  great 
amusement  on  her  face. 

' '  She  is  certainly  very  original,  Captain  Langton ;  quite  differ- 
ent from  the  pattern  young  lady  of  the  present  day. " 

"She  is  magnificently  handsome,"  he  continued;  "but  her 
manners  are  simply  startling. " 

"She  has  very  grand  qualities,"  said  Miss  Hastings;  "she 
has  a  noble  disposition  and  a  generous  heart,  but  the  want  of 
early  training,  the  mixing  entirely  with  one  class  of  society,  has 
made  her  very  strange. " 


82  HOW  WILL  IT  ENDS 

"Strange!"  cried  the  captain.  "I  have  never  met  with  any 
one  so  blunt,  so  outspoken,  so  abrupt,  in  all  my  life.  She  has 
no  notion  of  repose  or  polish  ;  I  have  never  been  so  surprised. 
I  hear  Sir  Oswald  coming,  and  really,  Miss  Hastings,  I  feel  that 
I  cannot  see  him  ;  I  am  not  equal  to  it — that  extraordinary  girl 
has  quite  unsettled  me.  You  might  mention  that  I  have  gone 
out  in  the  grounds  to  smoke  my  cigar ;  I  cannot  talk  to  any 
one. " 

Miss  Hastings  laughed  as  he  passed  out  through  the  open 
French  window  into  the  grounds.  Sir  Oswald  came  in,  smiling 
and  contented  ;  he  talked  for  a  few  minutes  with  Miss  Hastings, 
and  heard  that  the  captain  was  smoking  his  cigar.  He  ex- 
pressed to  Miss  Hastings  his  very  favorable  opinion  of  the  young 
man,  and  then  bade  her  good-night. 

"How  will  it  end?"  said  the  governess  to  herself.  "She  will 
never  marry  him,  I  am  sure.  Those  proud,  clear,  dark  eyes  of 
hers  look  through  all  his  little  airs  and  graces  ;  her  grand  soul 
seems  to  understand  all  the  narrowness  and  selfishness  of  his. 
She  will  never  marry  him.  Oh,  if  she  would  but  be  civilized  ! 
Sir  Oswald  is  quite  capable  of  leaving  all  he  has  to  the  captain, 
and  then  what  would  become  of  Pauline  ?" 

By  this  time  the  gentle,  graceful  governess  had  become  warm- 
ly attached  to  the  beautiful,  wayward,  willful  girl  who  persisted 
so  obstinately  in  refusing  what  she  chose  to  call  ' '  polish. " 

"How  will  it  end?"  said  the  governess.  "I  would  give  all  I 
have  to  see  Pauline  mistress  of  Darrell  Court ;  but  I  fear  the 
future. " 


HOW  WILL  IT  ENDS  83 

Some  of  the  scenes  that  took  place  between  Miss  Darrell  and 
the  captain  were  very  amusing.  She  had  the  utmost  contempt 
for  his  somewhat  dandified  airs,  his  graces,  and  affectations. 

"I  like  a  grand,  rugged,  noble  man,  with  the  head  of  a  hero, 
and  the  brow  of  a  poet,  the  heart  of  a  lion,  and  the  smile  of  a 
child, "  she  said  to  him  one  day ;  "I  cannot  endure  a  cox- 
comb. " 

"I  hope  you  may  find  such  a  man,  Miss  Darrell, "  he  returned, 
quietly.  "I  have  been  some  time  in  the  world,  but  I  have 
never  met  with  such  a  character. " 

"I  think  your  world  has  been  a  very  limited  one/'  she  re- 
plied, and  the  captain  looked  angry. 

He  had  certainly  hoped  and  intended  to  dazzle  her  with  his 
worldly  knowledge,  if  nothing  else.  Yet  how  she  despised  his 
knowledge,  and  with  what  contempt  she  heard  him  speak  of  his 
various  experiences ! 

Nothing  seemed  to  jar  upon  her  and  to  irritate  her  as  did  his 
affectations.  She  was  looking  one  morning  at  a  very  beautifully 
veined  leaf,  which  she  passed  over  to  Miss  Hastings. 

"Is  it  not  wonderful?"  she  asked;  and  the  captain,  with  his 
eye-glass,  came  to  look  at  it. 

"Are  you  short-sighted?"  she  asked  him,  abruptly. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  he  replied. 

"Is  your  sight  defective?"  she  continued. 

"No,  not  in  the  least  degree." 

"Then  why  do  you  use  that  eye-glass,  Captain  Langton?" 

"I — ah — why,  because  everybody  uses  one,"  he  replied. 


84  HOW  WILL  IT  END  ^ 

"I  thought  it  was  only  women  who  did  that  kind  of  thing- 
followed  a  fashion  for  fashion's  sake, "  she  said,  with  some  little 
contempt. 

The  next  morning  the  captain  descended  without  his  eye- 
glass, and  Miss  Hastings  smiled  as  she  noticed  it. 

Another  of  his  affectations  was  a  pretended  inability  to  pro- 
nounce his  "t's"  and  "r's." 

"Can  you  really  not  speak  plainly?"  she  said  to  him  one  day 

""Most  decidedly  I  can/'  he  replied,  wondering  what  was 
coming  next. 

"Then,  why  do  you  call  'rove'  'wove'  in  that  absurd 
fashion  ?" 

The  captain's  face  flushed. 

"It  is  a  habit  I  have  fallen  into,  I  suppose,"  he  replied.  "I 
must  break  myself  of  it. " 

"It  is  about  the  most  effeminate  habit  a  man  can  fall  into," 
said  Miss  Darrell.  "I  think  that,  if  I  were  a  soldier,  I  should 
delight  in  clear,  plain  speaking.  I  cannot  understand  why 
English  gentlemen  seem  to  think  it  fashionable  to  mutilate  their 
mother  tongue. " 

There  was  no  chance  of  their  ever  agreeing — they  never  did 
even  for  one  single  hour. 

" What  are  you  thinking  about,  Pauline?"  asked  Miss  Hast- 
ings one  day. 

Her  young  pupil  had  fallen  into  a  reverie  over  "The  History 
of  the  Peninsular  War. " 

"I  am  thinking,"  she  replied,  "that,  although  France  boasts 


HO  W  WILL  IT  END?  85 

so  much  of  her  military  glory,  England  has  a  superior  army; 
her  soldiers  are  very  brave ;  her  officers  the  truest  gentlemen. " 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  think  so.  I  have  often  won- 
dered if  you  would  take  our  guest  as  a  sample." 

Her  beautiful  lips  curled  with  unutterable  contempt 

"Certainly  not.  I  often  contrast  him  with  a  Captain  Lafosse, 
who  used  to  visit  us  in  the  Rue  d'Orme,  a  grand  man  with  a 
brown,  rugged  face,  and  great  brown  hands.  Captain  Langton 
is  a  coxcomb — neither  more  nor  less,  Miss  Hastings. " 

"But  he  is  polished,  refined,  elegant  in  his  manner  and 
address,  which,  perhaps,  your  friend  with  the  brown,  rugged 
face  was  not. " 

"We  shall  not  agree,  Miss  Hastings,  we  shall  not  agree.  I 
do  not  like  Captain  Langton. " 

The  governess,  remembering  all  that  Sir  Oswald  wished,  tried 
in  vain  to  represent  their  visitor  in  a  more  favorable  light.  Miss 
Darrell  simply  looked  haughty  and  unconvinced. 

"I  am  years  younger  than  you,"  she  said,  at  last,  "and  have 
seen  nothing  of  what  you  call  'life';  but  the  instinct  of  my  own 
heart  tells  me  that  he  is  false  in  heart,  in  mind,  in  soul ;  he  has 
a  false,  flattering  tongue,  false  lips,  false  principles — we  will  not 
speak  of  him. " 

Miss  Hastings  looked  at  her  sadly. 

"Do  you  not  think  that  in  time,  perhaps,  you  may  like  him 
better  ?" 

"No,"  was  the  blunt  reply,  "I  do  not.  I  told  him  that  I 
did  not  like  him,  but  that  I  would  take  some  time  to  consider 


86  HOW  WILL  IT  ENDS 

whether  he  was  to  be  a  friend  of  mine  or  not ;  and  the  conclu- 
sion I  have  arrived  at  is,  that  I  could  not  endure  his  friend- 
ship. " 

' '  When  did  you  tell  him  that  you  did  not  like  him  ?"  asked 
Miss  Hastings,  gravely. 

' '  I  think  it  was  the  first  night  he  came, "  she  replied. 

Miss  Hastings  looked  relieved. 

"Did  he  say  anything  else  to  you,  Pauline?"  she  asked, 
gently. 

' '  No ;  what  should  he  say  ?  He  seemed  very  much  sur- 
prised, I  suppose,  as  he  says  most  people  like  him.  But  I  do 
not,  and  never  shall. " 

One  thing  was  certain,  the  captain  was  falling  most  passion- 
ately in  love  with  Miss  Darrell.  Her  grand  beauty,  her  pride, 
her  originality,  all  seemed  to  have  an  irresistible  charm  for  him. 


ELINOR  ROCHEFORD.  87. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ELINOR      ROCHEFORD. 

It  was  a  morning  in  August,  when  a  gray  mist  hung  over  the 
earth,  a  mist  that  resulted  from  the  intense  heat,  and  through 
which  trees,  flowers,  and  fountains  loomed  faintly  like  shadows. 
The  sun  showed  his  bright  face  at  intervals,  but,  though  he  with- 
held his  gracious  presence,  the  heat  and  warmth  were  great;  the 
air  was  laden  with  perfume,  and  the  birds  were  all  singing  as 
though  they  knew  that  the  sun  would  soon  reappear. 

One  glance  at  her  pupil's  face  showed  Miss  Hastings  there 
was  not  much  to  be  done  in  the  way  of  study.  Pauline  wanted 
to  watch  the  mist  rise  from  the  hills  and  trees.  She  wanted  to 
see  the  sunbeams  grow  bright  and  golden. 

"Let  us  read  under  the  lime  trees,  Miss  Hastings/'  she  said, 
and  Captain  Langton  smiled  approval.  For  the  time  was  come 
when  he  followed  her  like  her  shadow ;  when  he  could  not  exist 
out  of  her  presence ;  when  his  passionate  love  mastered  him, 
and  brought  him,  a  very  slave,  to  her  feet;  when  the  hope  of 
winning  her  was  dearer  to  him  than  life  itself;  when  he  would 


88  ELINOR  ROCHEFORD. 

have  sacrificed  even  Darrell  Court  for  the  hope  of  calling  her  his 
wife. 

If  she  knew  of  his  passion,  she  made  no  sign ;  she  never  re- 
laxed from  her  haughty,  careless  indifference  ;  she  never  tried  in 
the  least  to  make  herself  agreeable  to  him. 

Sir  Oswald  watched  her  with  keen  eyes,  and  Miss  Hastings 
trembled  lest  misfortune  should  come  upon  the  girl  she  was 
learning  to  love  so  dearly.  She  saw  and  understood  that  the 
baronet  was  slowly  but  surely  making  up  his  mind  ;  if  Pauline 
married  the  captain,  he  would  make  her  his  heiress  ;  if  not,  she 
would  never  inherit  Darrell  Court. 

On  this  August  morning  they  formed  a  pretty  group  under 
the  shadowy,  graceful  limes.  Miss  Hastings  held  in  her  hands 
some  of  the  fine  fancy  work  which  delights  ladies ;  the  captain 
reclined  on  a  tiger-skin  rug  on  the  grass,  looking  very  handsome, 
for,  whatever  might  be  his  faults  of  mind,  he  was  one  of  the 
handsomest  men  in  England.  Pauline,  as  usual,  was  beautiful, 
graceful,  and  piquant,  wearing  a  plain  morning  dress  of  some 
gray  material — a  dress  which  on  any  one  else  would  have  looked 
plain,  but  which  she  had  made  picturesque  and  artistic  by  a 
dash  of  scarlet — and  a  pomegranate  blossom  in  her  hair.  Her 
lovely  face  looked  more  than  usually  noble  under  the  influence 
of  the  words  she  was  reading. 

"Tennyson  again !"  said  the  captain,  as  she  opened  the  book. 
"  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  poet  cannot  see  you,  Miss  Dar- 
rell, and  know  how  highly  you  appreciate  his  works. " 

She  never  smiled  nor  blushed  at  his  compliments,  as  she  had 


ELINOR  ROCHEFORD.  89 

seen  other  girls  do.  She  had  a  fashion  of  fixing  her  bright  eyes 
on  him,  and  after  one  glance  he  generally  was  overcome  with 
confusion  before  his  compliment  was  ended.  , 

1 '.  I  should  not  imagine  that  anything  I  could  say  would  flatter 
a  poet,"  she  replied,  thoughtfully.  "Indeed  he  is,  I  should 
say,  as  far  above  blame  as  praise. " 

Then,  without  noticing  him  further,  she  went  on  reading. 
Captain  Langton's  eyes  never  left  her  face;  its  pale,  grand 
beauty  glowed  and  changed,  the  dark  eyes  grew  radiant,  the 
beautiful  lips  quivered  with  emotion.  He  thought  to  himself 
that  a  man  might  lay  down  his  life  and  every  hope  in  it  to  win 
such  love  as  hers. 

Suddenly  she  heard  the  sound  of  voices,  and  looking  up  saw 
Sir  Oswald  escorting  two  ladies. 

"What  a  tiresome  thing !"  grumbled  the  captain.  "We  can 
never  be  alone  a  single  hour. " 

"I  thought  you  enjoyed  society  so  much  !"  she  said. 

' '  I  am  beginning  to  care  for  no  society  on  earth  but  yours, " 
he  whispered,  his  face  flushing,  while  she  turned  haughtily 
away. 

"You  are  proud/'  murmured  the  captain  to  himself — "you 
are  as  haughty  as  you  are  beautiful ;  but  I  will  win  you  yet. " 

Then  Sir  Oswald,  with  his  visitors,  advanced.  It  was  Pau- 
line's aversion,  Lady  Hampton,  with  her  niece,  Miss  Rocheford. 

Lady  Hampton  advanced  in  her  usual  grave,  artificial  manner. 

'  *  Sir  Oswald  wanted  to  send  for  you,  but  I  said  '  no. '  What 
can  be  more  charming  than  such  a  group  under  the  trees  ?  I 


90  ELINOR  ROCHEFORD. 

am  so  anxious  to  introduce  my  niece  to  you,  Miss  Darrell — she 
arrived  only  yesterday.  Elinor,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Miss 
Darrell,  Miss  Hastings,  and  Captain  Langton." 

Pauline's  dark  eyes  glanced  at  the  blushing,  sweet  face,  and 
the  shrinking  graceful  figure.  Miss  Hastings  made  her  wel- 
come ;  and  the  captain,  stroking  his  mustache,  .thought  himself 
in  luck  for  knowing  two  such  pretty  girls. 

There  could  not  have  been  a  greater  contrast  than  Pauline 
Darrell  and  Elinor  Rocheford.  Pauline  was  dark,  proud,  beau- 
tiful, passionate,  haughty,  and  willful,  yet  with  a  poet's  soul 
and  a  grand  mind  above  all  worldliness,  all  meanness,  all  arti- 
fice. Elinor  was  timid,  shrinking,  graceful,  lovely,  with  a  deli- 
cate, fairy-like  beauty,  yet  withal  keenly  alive  to  the  main 
chance,  and  never  forgetting  her  aunt's  great  maxim — to  make 
the  best  of  everything  for  herself. 

On  this  warm  August  morning  Miss  Rocheford  wore  a  charm- 
ing gossamer  costume  of  lilac  and  white,  with  the  daintiest  of 
Parisian  hats  on  her  golden  head.  Her  gloves,  shoes,  laces, 
parasol,  were  perfection — not  a  fold  was  out  of  place,  not  a  rib- 
bon awry — contrasting  most  forcibly  with  the  grand,  picturesque 
girl  near  her. 

Lady  Hampton  seated  herself,  and  Miss  Rocheford  did  the 
same.  Sir  Oswald  suggesting  how  very  refreshing  grapes  and 
peaches  would  be  on  so  warm  a  morning,  Captain  Langton  vol- 
unteered to  go  and  order  some.  Lady  Hampton  watched  him 
as  he  walked  away. 

''What  a  magnificent  man,  Sir  Oswald  !     What  a  fine  clever 


ELINOR  ROCHEFORD.  91 

face  !  It  is  easy  to  see  that  he  is  a  military  man — he  is  so  up- 
right, so  easy ;  there  is  nothing  like  a  military  training  for  giving 
a  man  an  easy,  dignified  carriage.  I  think  I  understood  that  he 
was  the  son  of  a  very  old  friend  of  ycurs?" 

"The  son  of  the  dearest  friend  I  ever  had  in  the  world,"  was 
the  reply ;  ' '  and  I  love  him  as  though  he  were  my  own — indeed 
I  wish  he  were." 

Lady  Hampton  sighed  and  looked  sympathetic. 

"  Langton,"  she  continued,  in  a  musing  tone — "is  he  one  of 
the  Langtons  of  Orde  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Sir  Oswald;  "my  dear  old  friend  was  of  a 
good 'family,  but  not  greatly  blessed  by  fortune." 

It  was  wonderful  to  see  how  Lady  Hampton's  interest  in  the 
captain  at  once  died  out ;  there  was  no  more  praise,  no  more 
admiration  for  him.  If  she  had  discovered  that  he  was  heir  to 
an  earldom,  how  different  it  would  have  been  !  Before  long  the 
captain  returned,  and  then  a  rustic  table  was  spread  under  the 
lime  trees,  with  purple  grapes,  peaches,  crimson  and  gold  apri- 
cots, and  ruby  plums. 

"It's  quite  picturesque,"  Lady  Hampton  declared,  with  a 
smile ;  ' '  and  Elinor,  dear  child,  enjoys  fruit  so  much. " 

In  spite  of  Lady  Hampton's  wish,  there  did  not  appear  to  be* 
much  cordiality  between  the  two  girls.  Occasionally  Elinor 
would  look  at  the  captain,  who  was  not  slow  to  return  her 
glances  with  interest.  His  eyes  said  plainly  that  he  thought  her 
very  lovely. 

Miss  Rocheford  was  in  every  respect  the  model  of  a  well 


92  ELINOR  ROCHEFORD. 

brought  up  young  lady.  She  knew  that  the  grand  end  and  aim 
of  her  existence  was  to  marry  well — she  never  forgot  that.  She 
was  well-born,  well-bred,  beautiful,  accomplished,  but  without 
fortune.  From  her  earliest  girlhood  Lady  Hampton  had  im- 
pressed upon  her  the  duty  of  marrying  money. 

"You  have  everything  else,  Elinor,"  she  was  accustomed  to 
say.  "You  must  marry  for  title  and  money." 

Miss  Rocheford  knew  it.  She  had  no  objection  to  her  fate — 
she  was  quite  passive  over  it — but  she  did  hope  at  times  that  the 
man  who  had  the  title  and  money  would  be  young,  handsome, 
and  agreeable.  If 'he  were  not,  she  could  not  help  it,  but  she 
hoped  he  would  be. 

Lady  Hampton  had  recently  become  a  widow.  In  her  youth 
she  had  felt  some  little  hope  of  being  mistress  of  Darrell  Court ; 
but  that  hope  had  soon  died.  Now,  however,  that  a  niece  was 
thrown  upon  her  hands,  she  took  heart  of  grace  in  another  re- 
spect ;  for  Sir  Oswald  was  not  an  old  man.  It  was  true  his  hair 
was  white,  but  he  was  erect,  dignified,  and,  in  Lady  Hampton's 
opinion,  more  interesting  'than  a  handsome  young  man,  who 
would  think  of  nothing  but  himself.  If  he  would  be  but  sensi- 
ble, and,  instead  of  adopting  that  proud,  unformed  girl,  marry, 
how  much  better  it  would  be ! 

She  knew  that  her  niece  was  precisely  the  style  that  he  ad- 
mired— elegant,  delicate,  utterly  incapable  of  any  originality, 
ready  at  any  moment  to  yield  her  opinions  and  ideas,  ready  to 
do  implicitly  as  she  was  told,  to  believe  in  the  superiority  of  her 
husband — a  model  woman,  in  short,  after  Sir  Oswald's  own 


ELINOR  ROCHEFORD.  93 

heart.  She  saw  that  the  baronet  was  much  struck  with  Elinor ; 
she  knew  that  in  his  own  mind  he  was  contrasting  the  two  girls 
—the  graceful  timidity  of  the  one,  her  perfect  polish  of  manner, 
with  the  brusque  independence  and  terribly  plain-spoken  fashion 
of  the  other. 

"It  would  be  ten  thousand  pities/'  said  Lady  Hampton  to 
herself,  ' '  to  see  that  girl  mistress  of  Darrell  Court.  She  would 
make  a  good  queen  for  the  Sandwich  Islands.  Before  I  go,  I 
must  open  Sir  Oswald's  eyes,  and  give  him  a  few  useful  hints. " 


94        SIR  OSWALD  THINKS  OF  MARRIAGE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SIR    OSWALD    THINKS   OF   MARRIAGE. 

Fortune  favored  Lady  Hampton.  Sir  Oswald  was  so  delight- 
ed with  his  visitors  that  he  insisted  upon  their  remaining  for 
luncheon. 

"The  young  ladies  will  have  time  to  become  friends,"  he 
said ;  but  it  was  well  that  he  did  not  see  how  contemptuously 
Pauline  .  turned  away  at  the  words.  ' '  Pauline, "  he  continued, 
"Miss  Rocheford  will  like  to  see  the  grounds.  This  is  her  first 
visit  to  Darrell  Court  Show  her  the  fountains  and  the  flower- 
gardens.  " 

Elinor  looked  up  with  a  well-assumed  expression  of  rapture ; 
Pauline's  look  of  annoyance  indicated  that  she  obeyed  greatly 
against  her  will. 

Sir  Oswald  saw  the  captain  looking  wistfully  after  the  two 
girlish  figures. 

"Go,"  he  said,  with  a  courtly  smile.  "Young  people  like 
to  be  together.  I  will  entertain  Lady  Hampton. " 

Greatly  relieved,   the  captain  followed.     He  was  so  deeply 


SIX  OSWALD  THINKS  OF  MARRIAGE.         95 

and  so  desperately  in  love  that  he  could  not  endure  to  see  Pau- 
line Darrell  talking  even  to  the  girl  by  her  side.  He  would  fain 
have  engrossed  every  word,  every  glance  of  hers  himself;  he 
was  madly  jealous  when  such  were  bestowed  upon  others. 

The  three  walked  down  the  broad  cedar  path  together,  the 
captain  all  gallant  attention,  Miss  Rocheford  all  sweetness, 
Pauline  haughty  as  a  young  barbaric  queen  bound  by  a  con- 
queror's chains.  She  did  not  like  her  companions,  and  did  not 
even  make  a  feint  of  being  civil  to  them. 

Meanwhile  the  opportunity  so  longed  for  by  Lady  Hampton 
had  arrived ;  and  the  lady  seized  it  with  alacrity.  She  turned  to 
Sir  Oswald  with  a  smile. 

"You  amuse  me,"  she  said,  "by  giving  yourself  such  an  air 
of  age.  Why  do  you  consider  yourself  so  old,  Sir  Oswald  ?  If 
it  were  not  that  I  feared  to  flatter  you,  I  should  say  that  there 
were  few  young  men  to  compare  with  you." 

"My  dear  Lady  Hampton,"  returned  the  baronet,  in  a  voice 
that  was  not  without  pathos,  "look  at  this." 

He  placed  his  thin  white  hand  upon  his  white  hair.  Lady 
Hampton  laughed  again. 

"What  does  that  matter?  Why,  many  men  are  gray  even  in 
their  youth.  I  have  always  wondered  why  you  seek  to  appear 
so  old,  Sir  Oswald.  I  feel  sure,  judging  from  many  indications, 
that  you  cannot  be  sixty. " 

"No;  but  I  am  over  fifty — and  my  idea  is  that,  at  fifty,  one 
is  really  old. " 

' '  Nothing  of  the  kind  !"  she  said,  with  great  energy.      ' '  Some 


96        SIX  OSWALD  THINKS  OF  MARRIAGE. 

of  the  finest  men  1  have  known  were  only  in  the  prime  of  life 
then.  If  you  were  seventy,  you  might  think  of  speaking  as  you 
do.  Sir  Oswald,"  she  asked,  abruptly,  looking  keenly  at  his 
face,  "why  have  you  never  married?" 

He  smiled,  but  a  flush  darkened  the  fine  old  face. 

"I  was  in  love  once,"  he  replied,  simply,  "and  only  once. 
The  lady  was  young  and  fair.  She  loved  me  in  return.  But  a 
few  weeks  before  our  marriage  she  was  suddenly  taken  ill  and 
died.  I  have  never  even  thought  of  replacing  her. " 

"How  sad !  What  sort  of  a  lady  was  she,  Sir  Oswald — this 
fair  young  love  of  yours  ?" 

"Strange  to  say,  in  face,  figure,  and  manner  she  somewhat 
resembled  your  lovely  young  niece,  Lady  Hampton.  She  had 
the  same  quiet,  graceful  manner,  the  same  polished  grace — so 
different  from " 

"From  Miss  Darrell,"  supplied  the  lady,  promptly.  "How 
that  unfortunate  girl  must  jar  upon  you  !" 

"She  does;  but  there  are  times  when  I  have  hopes  of  her. 
We  are  talking  like  old  friends  now,  Lady  Hampton.  I  may 
tell  you  that  I  think  there  is  one  and  only  one  thing  that  can  re- 
deem my  niece,  and  that  is  love.  Love  works  wonders  some- 
times, and  I  have  hopes  that  it  may  do  so  in  her  case.  A  grand 
master-passion  such  as  controls  the  Darrells  when  they  love  at 
all — that  would  redeem  her.  It  would  soften  that  fierce  pride 
and  hauteur,  it  would  bring  her  to  the  ordinary  level  of  woman- 
hood ;  it  would  cure  her  of  many  of  the  fantastic  ideas  that  seem 


SIX  OSWALD  THINKS  OF  MARRIAGE.        97 

to  have  taken  possession  of  her ;  it  would  make  her — what  she 
certainly  is  not  now — a  gentlewoman." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  queried  Lady  Hampton,  doubtfully. 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  When  I  look  at  that  grand  face  of  hers, 
often  so  defiant,  I  think  to  myself  that  she  may  be  redeemed  by 
love." 

"And  if  this  grand  master-passion  does  not  come  to  her — if 
she  cares  for  some  one  only  after  the  ordinary  fashion  of  women 
— what  then?" 

He  threw  up  his  hands  with  a  gesture  indicative  of  despair. 

"Or,"  continued  Lady  Hampton — "pray  pardon  me  for  sug- 
gesting such  a  thing,  Sir  Oswald,  but  people  of  the  world,  like 
you  and  myself,  know  what  odd  things  are  likely  at  any  time  to 
happen — supposing  that  she  should  marry  some  commonplace 
lover,  after  a  commonplace  fashion,  and  that  then  the  master- 
passion  should  find  her  out,  what  would  be  the  fate  of  Darrell 
Court?" 

"I  cannot  tell,"  replied  Sir  Oswald,  despairingly. 

"With  a  person,  especially  a  young  girl,  of  her  self-willed, 
original,  independent  nature,  one  is  never  safe.  How  thankful 
I  am  that  my  niece  is  so  sweet  and  so  womanly !" 

Sir  Oswald  sat  for  some  little  time  in  silence.  He  looked  on 
this  fair  ancestral  home  of  his,  with  its  noble  woods  and  mag- 
nificent gardens.  What  indeed  would  become  of  it  if  it  fell 
into  the  ill-disciplined  hands  of  an  ill-disciplined  girl — unless, 
indeed,  she  were  subject  to  the  control  of  a  wise  husband  ? 

Would   Pauline   ever  submit  to  such  control?     Her  pale, 


98        SIX  OSWALD  THINKS  OF  MARRIAGE. 

grand  face  rose  before  him,  the  haughty  lips,  the  proud,  calm 
eyes — the  man  who  mastered  her,  who  brought  her  mind  into 
subjection,  would  indeed  be  a  superior  being.  For  the  first 
time  a  doubt  crossed  Sir  Oswald's  mind  as  to  whether  she  would 
ever  recognize  that  superior  being  in  Captain  Langton.  He 
knew  that  there  were  depths  in  the  girl's  nature  beyond  his  own 
reach.  It  was  not  all  pride,  all  defiance — there  were  genius, 
poetry,  originality,  grandeur  of  intellect,  and  greatness  of  heart 
before  which  the  baronet  knew  that  he  stood  in  hopeless,  help- 
less awe. 

Lady  Hampton  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Do  not  despond,  old  friend,"  she  said.  "I  understand 
you.  I  should  feel  like  you.  I  should  dread  to  leave  the  in- 
heritance of  my  fathers  in  such  dangerous  hands.  But,  Sir  Os- 
wald, why  despond?  Why  not  marry?" 

The  baronet  started. 

"Marry!"  he  repeated.  "Why,  I  have  never  thought  of 
such  a  thing." 

' '  Think  of  it  now, "  counseled  the  lady,  laughingly ;  ' '  you  will 
find  the  advice  most  excellent.  Instead  of  tormenting  yourself 
about  an  ill-conditioned  girl,  who  delights  in  defying  you,  you 
can  have  an  amiable,  accomplished,  elegant,  and  gentle  wife  to 
rule  your  household  and  attend  to  your  comfort — you  might 
have  a  son  of  your  own  to  succeed  you,  and  Darrell  Court  might 
yet  remain  in  the  hands  of  the  Darrells. " 

"But,  my  dear  Lady  Hampton,  where  should  I  find  such  a 
wife?  I  am  no  longer  young — who  would  marry  me?" 


SIX  OSWALD  THINKS  OF  MARRIAGE.         99 

"Any  sensible  girl  in  England.  Take  my  advice,  Sir  Os- 
wald. Let  us  have  a  Lady  Darrell,  and  not  an  ill-trained  girl 
who  will  delight  in  setting  the  world  at  defiance.  Indeed,  I 
consider  that  marriage  is  a  duty  which  you  owe  to  society  and 
to  your  race. " 

"I  have  never  thought  of  it.  I  have  always  considered  my- 
self as  having,  so  to  speak,  finished  with  life. " 

"You  have  made  a  great  mistake,  but  it  is  one  that  fortunate- 
ly can  be  remedied. " 

Lady  Hampton  rose  from  her  seat,  and  walked  a  few  steps 
forward. 

"I  have  put  his  thoughts  in  the  right  groove/'  she  mused  ; 
' '  but  I  ought  to  say  a  word  about  Elinor. " 

She  turned  to  him  again. 

"You  ask  me  who  would  marry  you.  Why,  Sir  Oswald,  in 
England  there  are  hundreds  of  girls,  well-bred,  elegant,  grace- 
ful, gentle,  like  my  niece,  who  would  ask  nothing  better  from 
fortune  than  a  husband  like  yourself. " 

£he  saw  her  words  take  effect.  She  had  turned  his  thoughts 
and  ideas  in  the  right  direction  at  last. 

"Shall  we  go  and  look  after  our  truants?"  she  asked,  suavely. 

And  they  walked  together  down  the  path  where  Pauline  had 
so  indignantly  gathered  the  broken  lily.  As  though  uncon- 
sciously, Lady  Hampton  began  to  speak  of  her  niece. 

"I  have  adopted  Elinor  entirely,"  she  said — "indeed  there 
was  no  other  course  for  me  to  pursue.  Her  mother  was  my 


ioo      »S7J?  OSWALD  THINKS  OF  MARRIAGE. 

youngest  sister;  she  has  been  dead  many  years.  Elinor  k 
been  living  with  her  father,  but  he  has  just  secured  a  goverr 
ment  appointment  abroad,  and  I  asked  him  to  give  his  daughte 
to  me." 

"It  was  very  kind  of  you,"  observed  Sir  Oswald. 

"Nay,  the  kindness  is  on  her  part,  not  on  mine.     She  is  lik 
a  sunbeam  in  my  house.     Fair,  gentle,  a  perfect  lady,  she  ha 
not  one  idea  that  is  not  in  itself  innately  refined  and  delicate, 
knew  that  if  she  went  into  society  at  all  she  would  soon  marry. 

"Is  there  any  probability  of  that?"  asked  Sir  Oswald. 

"No,  for  by  her  own  desire  we  shall  live  very  quietly  thi 
year.  She  wished  to  see  Darrell  Court  and  its  owner — we  hav 
spoken  so  much  of  you — but  with  that  exception  we  shall  g< 
nowhere. " 

' '  I  hope  she  is  pleased  with  Darrell  Court, "  said  Sir  Oswald 

"How  could  she  fail  to  be,  as  well  as  delighted  with  its  hos 
pitable  master?  I  could  read  that  much  in  her  pretty  face 
Here  they  are,  Sir  Oswald — Miss  Darrell  alone,  looking  ver 
dignified — Elinor,  with  your  friend.  Ah,  she  knows  how  t< 
choose  ftiends  !"  s 

They  joined  the  group,  but  Miss  Darrell  was  in  one  of  he 
most  dignified  moods.  She  had  been  forced  to  listen  to  a  fash 
ionable  conversation  between  Captain  Langton  and  Miss  Roche 
ford,  and  her  indignation  and  contempt  had  got  the  better  o 
her  politeness. 

They  all  partook  of  luncheon  together,  and  then  the  visitors 
departed;  not,  however,  until  Lady  Hampton  had  accepted 


SIX  OSWALD  THINKS  0%  MARRIAGE.  .>.  ii 


from  Sir  Oswald  an  invitation  to  specid  a-^eek  a*' 
Sir  Francis  and  Lady  Allroy  were  coming  —  the  party  would  be  a 
very  pleasant  one  ;  and  Sir  Oswald  said  he  would  give  a  grand 
ball  in  the  course  of  the  week  —  a  piece  of  intelligence  which  de- 
lighted the  captain  and  Miss  Rocheford  greatly. 

Then  Lady  Hampton  and  her  niece  set  out.  Sir  Oswald  held 
Elinor's  hand  rather  longer  than  strict  etiquette  required. 

"How  like  she  is  to  my  dead  love!"  he  thought,  and  his 
adieu  was  more  than  cordial. 

As  they  drove  home,  Lady  Hampton  gazed  at  her  niece  with 
a  look  of  triumph. 

"You  have  a  splendid  chance,  Elinor/'  she  said;  "no  girl 
ever  had  a  better.  What  do  you  think  of  Darrell  Court  ?" 

'  '  It  is  a  palace,  aunt—  a  magnificent,  stately  palace.  I  have 
never  seen  anything  like  it  before.  " 

"It  may  be  yours  if  you  play  your  cards  well,  my  dear." 

"How?"  cried  the  girl.  "I  thought  it  was  to  be  Miss  Dar- 
rell's.  Every  one  says  she  is  her  uncle's  heiress.  " 

"People  need  not  make  too  sure  of  it.  I  do  not  think  so. 
With  a  little  management,  Sir  Oswald  will  propose  to  you,  I  am 
convinced.  " 

The  girl's  face  fell. 

"But,  aunt,  he  is  so  old." 

"He  is  only  just  fifty,  Elinor.  No  girl  in  her  senses  would 
ever  call  that  old.  It  is  just  the  prime  of  life.  " 

"I  like  Captain  Langton  so  much  the  better,"  she  murmured. 

"I  have  no  doubt  that  you  do,  my  dear;  but  there  must  be 


102      SIX  6>o  WA  ID  THINKS  OF  MARRIA GE. 

nc  nonsense  a^out  liking  or  disliking.  Sir  Oswald's  income 
must  be  quite  twenty  thousand  per  annum,  and  if  you  manage 
well,  all  that  may  be  yours.  But  you  must  place  yourself  under 
my  directions,  and  do  implicitly  what  I  tell  you,  if  so  desirable 
a  result  is  to  be  achieved." 


PAULINE'S  LOVE  FOR  DARRELL  COURT.    103 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
PAULINE'S  LOVE  FOR  DARRELL  COURT. 

Miss  Darrell  preserved  a  dignified  silence  during  dinner ;  but 
when  the  servants  had  withdrawn,  Sir  Oswald,  who  had  been 
charmed  with  his  visitors,  said  : 

"I  am  delighted,  Pauline,  that  you  have  secured  a  young  lady 
friend.  You  will  be  pleased  with  Miss  Rocheford. " 

Pauline  made  no  reply ;  and  Sir  Oswald,  never  thinking  that 
it  was  possible  for  one  so  gentle  and  lovely  as  Miss  Rocheford  to 
meet  with  anything  but  the  warmest  praise,  continued  : 

"I  consider  that  Lady  Hampton  has  done  us  all  a  great  favor 
in  bringing  her  charming  niece  with  her.  Were  vou  not  de- 
lighted with  her,  Pauline?" 

Miss  Darrell  made  no  haste  to  reply ;  but  Sir  Oswald  evident- 
ly awaited  an  answer. 

"I  do  not  like  Miss  Rocheford,"  she  said  at  length;  "it 
would  be  quite  useless  to  pretend  that  I  do." 

Miss  Hastings  looked  up  in  alarm.  Captain  Langton  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  with  a  smile  on  his  lips — he  always  enjoyed 


104  PAULINE'S  LOVE  FOR  DARRELL  COURT. 

Pauline's  " scenes"  when  her  anger  was  directed  against  any  one 
but  himself;  Sir  Oswald's  brow  darkened. 

"Pray,  Miss  Darrell,  may  I  ask  why  you  do  not  like  her?" 
"Certainly.  I  do  not  like  her  for  the  same  reason  that  I 
should  not  like  a  diet  of  sugar.  Miss  Rocheford  is  very  elegant 
and  gentle,  but  she  has  no  opinions  of  her  own ;  every  wind 
sways  her ;  she  has  no  ideas,  no  force  of  character.  It  is  not 
possible  for  me  to  really  like  such  a  person. " 

"But,  my  dear  Pauline,"  interposed  Miss  Hastings,  "you 
should  not  express  such  very  decided  opinions ;  you  should  be 
more  reticent,  more  tolerant." 

"If  I  am  not  to  give  my  opinion,"  said  Pauline,  serenely, 
"I  should  not  be  asked  for  it." 

"Pray,  Miss  Hastings,  do  not  check  such  delightful  frank- 
ness," cried  Sir  Oswald,  angrily,  his  hands  trembling,  his  face 
darkening  with  an  angry  frown. 

He  said  no  more ;  but  the  captain,  who  thought  he  saw  a 
chance  of  recommending  himself  to  Miss  Darrell's  favor,  ob- 
served, later  on  in  the  evening  : 

1 '  I  knew  you  would  not  like  our  visitor,  Miss  Darrell.  She 
was  not  of  the  kind  to  attract  you. " 

1  ( Sir  Oswald  forced  my  opinion  from  me, "  she  said ;  ' '  but  I 
shall  not  listen  to  one  word  of  disparagement  of  Miss  Rocheford 
from  you,  Captain  Langton.  You  gave  her  great  attention,  you 
flattered  her,  you  paid  her  many  compliments ;  and  now,  if  you 
say  that  you  dislike  her,  it  will  simply  be  deceitful,  and  I  abom- 
inate deceit. " 


PAULINE'S  LOVE  FOR  DARRELL  COURT.    105 

It  was  plain  that  Pauline  had  greatly  annoyed  Sir  Oswald. 
He  liked  Miss  Rocheford  very  much ;  the  sweet,  yielding,  gen- 
tle disposition,  which  Pauline  had  thought  so  monotonous,  de- 
lighted him.  'Miss  Rocheford  was  so  like  that  lost,  dead  love 
of  his — so  like !  And  for  this  girl,  who  tried  his  patience  every 
hour  of  the  day,  to  find  fault  with  her !  It  was  too  irritating ; 
he  could  not  endure  it.  He  was  very  cold  and  distant  to  Pau- 
line for  some  time,  but  the  young  girl  was  serenely  unconscious 
of  it. 

In  one  respect  she  was  changing  rapidly.  The  time  had  been 
when  she  had  been  indifferent  to  Darrell  Court,  when  she  had 
thought  with  regret  of  the  free,  happy  life  in  the  Rue  d'Orme, 
where  she  could  speak  lightly  of  the  antiquity  and  grandeurs  of 
the  race  from  which  she  had  sprung ;  but  all  that  was  altered 
now.  It  could  not  be  otherwise,  considering  how  romantic, 
how  poetical,  how  impressionable  she  was,  how  keenly  alive  to 
everything  beautiful  and  noble.  She  was  living  here  in  the  very 
cradle  of  the  race,  where  every  tree  had  its  legend,  every  stone 
its  story  ;  how  could  she  be  indifferent  while  the  annals  of  her 
house  were  filled  with  noble  retrospects?  The  Darrells  had 
numbered  great  warriors  and  statesmen  among  their  number. 
Some  of  the  noblest  women  in  England  had  been  Darrells ; 
and  Pauline  had  learned  to  glory  in  the  old  stories,  and  to  feel 
her  heart  beat  with  pride  as  she  remembered  that  she,  too,  was 
a  Darrell. 

So,  likewise,  she  had  grown  to  love  the  Court  for  its  pictur- 


io6  PAULINE'S  LOVE  FOR  DARRELL  COURT. 

esque  beauty,  its  stately  magnificence,  and  the  time  came  soon 
when  almost  every  tree  and  shrub  was  dear  to  her. 

It  was  Pauline's  nature  to  love  deeply  and  passionately  if  she 
loved  at  all ;  there  was  no  lukewarmness  about  her.  She  was 
incapable  of  those  gentle,  womanly  likings  that  save  all  wear 
and  tear  of  passion.  She  could  not  love  in  moderation  ;  and 
very  soon  the  love  of  Darrell  Court  became  a  passion  with  her. 
She  sketched  the  mansion  from  twenty  different  points  of  view, 
she  wrote  verses  about  it ;  she  lavished  upon  it  the  love  which 
some  girls  lavish  upon  parents,  brothers,  sisters,  and  friends. 

She  stood  one  day  looking  at  it  as  the  western  sunbeams 
lighted  it  up  until  it  looked  as  though  it  were  bathed  in  gold. 
The  stately  towers  and  turrets,  the  flower-wreathed  balconies, 
the  grand  arched  windows,  the  Gothic  porch,  all  made  up  a 
magnificent  picture;  the  fountains  were  playing  in  the  sunlit 
air,  the  birds  singing  in  the  stately  trees.  She  turned  to  Miss 
Hastings,  and  the  governess  saw  tears  standing  warm  and  bright 
in  the  girl's  eyes. 

' '  How  beautiful  it  is !"  she  said.  ' '  I  cannot  tell  you — I  have 
no  words  to  tell  you — how  I  love  my  home. " 

The  heart  of  the  gentle  lady  contracted  with  sudden  fear. 

"It  is  very  beautiful,"  she  said;  "but,  Pauline,  do  not  love 
it  too  much  ;  remember  how  very  uncertain  everything  is." 

"There  can  be  nothing  uncertain  about  my  inheritance," 
returned  the  girl.  "I  am  a  Darrell — the  only  Darrell  left  to  in- 
herit it.  And,  oh !  Miss  Hastings,  how  I  love  it !  But  it  is 
not  for  its  wealth  that  I  love  it ;  it  is  my  heart  that  is  bound  to 


PAULINE'S  LOVE  FOR  DARRELL  COURT.   107 

it.  I  love  it  as  I  can  fancy  a  husband  loves  his  wife,  a  mother 
her  child.  It  is  everything  to  me. " 

"Still,"  said  Miss  Hastings,  "I  would  not  love  it  too  well; 
everything  is  so  uncertain. " 

"But  not  that/'  replied  Pauline,  quickly.  "My  uncle 
would  never  dare  to  be  so  unjust  as  to  leave  Darrell  Court  to 
any  one  but  a  Darrell.  I  am  not  in  the  least  afraid — not  in  the 
least." 


io8    BREACH  BETWEEN  UNCLE  AND  NIECE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BREACH    BETWEEN    UNCLE    AND    NIECE. 

A  few  days  later  the  tranquillity  of  Darrell  Court  was  at  an 
end.  She  invited  guests  were  expected,  and  Sir  Oswald  had 
determined  to  do  them  all  honor.  The  state-apartments,  which 
had  not  been  used  during  his  tenure,  were  all  thrown  open ; 
the  superb  ball-room,  once  the  pride  of  the  county,  was  redeco- 
rated ;  the  long,  empty  corridors  and  suites  of  apartments  re- 
served for  visitors,  were  once  more  full  of  life.  Miss  Hastings 
was  the  presiding  genius ;  Pauline  Darrell  took  far  less  interest 
in  the  preparations. 

"I  am  glad,"  she  said,  one  morning,  "that  I  am  to  see  your 
'world/  Sir  Oswald.  You  despise  mine;  I  shall  be  anxious  to 
see  what  yours  is  like. " 

The  baronet  answered  her  testily  : 

"I  do  not  quite  understand  your  remarks  about  'worlds/ 
Surely  we  live  under  the  same  conditions. " 

"Not  in  the  same  world  of  people,"  she  opposed;  "and  I 
am  anxious  to  see  what  yours  is  like. " 


BREACH  BETWEEN  UNCLE  AND  NIECE.     109 

"What  do  you  expect  to  find  in  what  you  are  pleased  to  call 
my  world,  Pauline  ?"  he  asked,  angrily. 

' '  Little  truth,  and  plenty  of  affectation  ;  little  honor,  and 
plenty  of  polish  ;  little  honesty,  and  very  high-sounding  words  ; 
little  sincerity,  and  plenty  of  deceit." 

"By  what  right  do  you  sit  in  judgment?"  he  demanded. 

"None  at  all,"  replied  Pauline;  "but  as  people  are  always 
speaking  ill  of  the  dear,  honest  world  in  which  I  have  lived,  I 
may  surely  be  permitted  to  criticise  the  world  that  is  outside  it. " 

Sir  Oswald  turned  away  angrily ;  and  Miss  Hastings  sighed 
over  the  girl's  willfulness. 

"Why  do  you  talk  to  Sir  Oswald  in  a  fashion  that  always  irri- 
tates him  ?"  she  remonstrated. 

"We  live  in  a  free  country,  and  have  each  of  us  freedom  of 
speech. " 

' '  I  am  afraid  the  day  will  come  when  you  will  pay  a  sad  price 
for  yours. " 

But  Pauline  Darrell  only  laughed.  Such  fears  never  affected 
her ;  she  would  sooner  have  expected  to  see  the  heavens  fall  at 
her  feet  than  that  Sir  Oswald  should  not  leave  Darrell  Court  to 
her — his  niece,  a  Darrell,  with  the  Darrell  face  and  the  Darrell 
figure,  the  true,  proud  features  of  the  race.  He  would  never 
dare  to  do  otherwise,  she  thought,  and  she  would  not  conde- 
scend to  change  either  her  thought  or  speech  to  please  him. 

"The  Darrells  do  not  know  fear,"  she  would  say;  "there 
never  yet  was  an  example  of  a  Darrell  being  frightened  into 
anything. " 


1 10     BREACH  BETWEEN  UNCLE  AND  NIECE. 

So  the  breach  between  the  uncle  and  the  niece  grew  wider 
every  day.  He  could  not  understand  her ;  the  grand,  untrained, 
undisciplined,  poetical  nature  was  beyond  him — he  could 
neither  reach  its  heights  nor  fathom  its  depths.  There  were 
time§  when  he  thought  that,  despite  her  outward  coldness  and 
pride,  there  was  within  a  soul  of  fire,  when  he  dimly  understood 
the  magnificence  of  the  character  he  could  not  read,  when  he 
suspected  there  might  be  some  souls  that  could  not  be  narrowed 
or  forced  into  a  common  groove.  Nevertheless  he  feared  her ; 
he  was  afraid  to  trust,  not  the  honor,  but  the  fame  of  his  race 
to  her. 

"She  is  capable  of  anything/'  he  would  repeat  to  himself 
again  and  again.  ' '  She  would  fling  the  Darrell  revenues  to  the 
wind;  she  would  transform  Darrell  Court  into  one  huge  ob- 
servatory, if  astronomy  pleased  her — into  one  huge  laboratory, 
if  she  gave  herself  to  chemistry.  One  thing  is  perfectly  clear 
to  me — she  can  never  be  my  heiress  until  she  is  safely  married. " 

And,  after  great  deliberation — after  listening  to  all  his  heart's 
pleading  in  favor  of  her  grace,  her  beauty,  her  royal  generosity 
of  character,  the  claim  of  her  name  and  her  truth — he  came  to 
the  decision  that  if  she  would  marry  Captain  Langton,  whom  he 
loved  perhaps  better  than  any  one  else  in  the  world,  he  would 
at  once  make  his  will,  adopt  her,  and  leave  her  heiress  of  all 
that  he  had  in  the  world. 

One  morning  the  captain  confided  in  him,  telling  him  how 
dearly  he  loved  his  beautiful  niece,  and  then  Sir  Oswald  revealed 
his  intentions. 


BREA  CH  BETWEEN  UNCLE  AND  NIECE.     1 1 1 

"You  understand,  Aubrey,"  he  said — "the  girl  is  magnifi- 
cently beautiful — she  is  a  true  Darrell;  but  I  am  frightened 
about  her.  She  is  not  like  other  girls ;  she  is  wanting  in  tact, 
in  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  both  are  essential.  I  hope  you 
will  win  her.  I  shall  die  content  if  I  leave  Darrell  Court  in 
your  hands,  and  if  you  are  her  husband.  I  could  not  pass  her 
over  to  make  you  my  heir ;  but  if  you  can  persuade  her  to 
marry  you,  you  can  take  the  name  of  Darrell,  and  you  can  guide 
and  direct  her.  What  do  you  say,  Aubrey  ?" 

"What  do  I  say?"  stammered  the  captain.  '  "I  say  this — 
that  I  love  her  so  dearly  that  I  would  marry  her  if  she  had  not 
a  farthing.  I  love  her  so  that  language  cannot  express  the 
depth  of  my  affection  for  her. " 

The  captain  was  for  a  few  minutes  quite  overcome — he  had 
been  so  long  dunned  for  money,  so  hardly  pressed,  so  desperate, 
that  the  chance  of  twenty  thousand  a  year  and  Darrell  Court 
was  almost  too  much  for  him,  His  brow  grew  damp,  and  his 
lips  pale.  All  this  might  be  his  own  if  he  could  but  win  the 
consent  of  this  girl.  Yet  he  feared  her ;  the  proud,  noble  face, 
the  grand,  dark  eyes  rose  before  him,  and  seemed  to  rebuke 
him  for  his  presumptuous  hope.  How  was  he  to  win  her? 
Flattery,  sweet,  soft  words  would  never  do  it.  One  scoinful 
look  from  her  sent  his  ideas  "flying  right  and  left." 

"If  she  were  only  like  other  girls,"  he  thought,  "I  could 
make  her  my  wife  in  a  few  weeks. " 

Then. he  took  heart  of  grace.  Had  he  not  been  celebrated 
for  his  good  fortune  among  the  fair  sex  ?  Had  he  not  always 


1 1 2    BREA  CH  BETWEEN  UNCLE  AND  NIECE. 

found  his  handsome  person,  his  low,  tender  voice,  his  pleasing 
manner  irresistible?  Who  was  this  proud,  dark-eyed  girl  that 
she  should  measure  the  depths  of  his  heart  and  soul,  and  find 
them  wanting?  Surely  he  must  be  superior  to  the  artists  in 
shabby  coats  by  whom  she  had  been  surrounded.  And  yet  he 
feared  as  much  as  he  hoped. 

"She  has  such  a  way  of  making  me  feel  small,"  he  said  to 
himself;  "and  if  that  kind  of  feeling  comes  over  me  when  I 
am  making  her  an  offer,  it  will  be  of  no  use  to  plead  my  suit." 

But  what  a  prospect — master  of  Darrell  Court  and  twenty 
thousand  per  annum  !  He  would  endure  almost  any  humilia- 
tion to  obtain  that  position. 

"She  must  have  me,"  he  said  to  himself — "she  shall  have 
me  !  I  will  force  her  to  be  my  wife  !" 

Why,  if  he  could  but  announce  his  engagement  to  Miss  Dar_ 
rell,  he  could  borrow  as  much  money  as  would  clear  off  all  his 
liabilities !  And  how  much  he  needed  money  no  one  knew 
better  than  himself.  He  had  paid  this  visit  to  the  Court  be- 
cause there  were  two  writs  out  against  him  in  London,  and, 
unless  he  could  come  to  some  settlement  of  them,  he  knew 
what  awaited  him. 

And  all — fortune,  happiness,  wealth,  freedom,  prosperity — 
depended  on  one  word  from  the  proud  lips  that  had  hardly  ever 
spoken  kindly  to  him.  He  loved  her,  too — loved  her  with  a 
fierce,  desperate  love  that  at  times  frightened  himself. 

"I  should  like  you,"  said  Sir  Oswald,  at  the  conclusion  of 
their  interview,  ' '  to  have  the  matter  settled  as  soon  as  you  can ; 


BREA  CH  BETWEEN  UNCLE  AND  NIECE.     1 1 3 

because,  I  tell  you,  frankly,  if  my  niece  does  not  consent  to 
marry  you,  I  shall  marry  myself.  All  my  friends  are  eagerly 
solicitous  for  me  to  do  so ;  they  do  not  like  the  prospect  of  see- 
ing a  grand  old  inheritance  like  this  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  will- 
ful, capricious  girl.  But  I  tell  you  in  confidence,  Aubrey,  I  do 
not  wish  to  marry.  I  am  a  confirmed  old  bachelor  now,  and  it 
would  be  a  sad  trouble  to  me  to  have  my  life  changed  by  mar- 
riage. Still  I  would  rather  marry  than  that  harm  should  come 
toDarrell  Court." 

" Certainly,"  agreed  the  captain. 

"I  do  not  mind  telling  you  still  further  that  I  have  seen  a 
lady  whom,  if  I  marry  at  all,  I  should  like  to  make  my  wife — 
in  fact,  she  resembles  some  one  I  used  to  know  long  years  ago. 
I  have  every  reason  to  believe  she  is  much  admired  and  sought 
after ;  so  that  I  want  you  to  settle  your  affairs  as  speedily  as  pos- 
sible. Mind,  Aubrey,  they  must  be  settled — there  must  be  no 
deferring,  no  putting  off;  you  must  have  an  answer — yes  or  no 
— very  shortly ;  and  you  must  not  lose  an  hour  in  communica- 
ting that  answer  to  me. " 

"I  hope  it  will  be  a  favorable  one,"  said  Aubrey  Langton  ; 
but  his  mind  misgave  him.  He  had  an  idea  that  the  girl  had 
found  him  wanting ;  he  could  not  forget  her  first  frank  declara- 
tion that  she  did  not  like  him. 

"If  she  refuses  me,  have  I  your  permission  to  tell  Miss  Dar- 
rell  the  alternative  ?"  he  asked  of  Sir  Oswald. 

The  baronet  thought  deeply  for  some  minutes,  and  then 
said : 


ii4     BREACH  BETWEEN  UNCLE  AND  NIECE. 

' '  Yes ;  it  is  only  fair  and  just  that  she  should  know  it — that 
she  should  learn  that  if  she  refuses  you  she  loses  all  chance  of 
being  my  heiress.  But  do  not  say  anything  of  the  lady  I  have 
mentioned." 

The  visitors  were  coming  on  Tuesday,  and  Thursday  was  the 
day  settled  for  the  ball. 

"All  girls  like  balls,"  thought  Captain  Langton.  "Pauline 
is  sure  to  be  in  a  good  temper  then,  and  I  will  ask  her  on 
Thursday  night." 

But  he  owned  to  himself  that  he  would  rather  a  thousand 
times  have  faced  a  whole  battalion  of  enemies  than  ask  Pauline 
Darrell  to  be  his  wife. 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  BALL.  115 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE    QUEEN    OF   THE    BALL. 

It  was  many  years  since  Darrell  Court  had  been  so  gay.  Sir 
Oswald  had  resolved  that  the  ball  should  be  one  that  should  re- 
flect credit  on  the  giver  and  the  guests.  He  had  ordered  a  fine 
band  of  music  and  a  magnificent  banquet.  The  grounds  were 
to  be  illuminated,  colored  lamps  being  placed  among  the  trees  ; 
the  ball-room  was  a  gorgeous  mass  of  brilliant  bloom — tier  after 
tier  of  magnificent  flowers  was  ranged  along  the  walls,  white 
statues  gleaming  from  the  bright  foliage,  and  little  fountains 
here  and  there  sending  up  their  fragrant  spray. 

Sir  Oswald  had  sent  to  London  for  some  one  to  superintend 
the  decorations ;  but  they  were  not  perfected  until  Miss  Darrell, 
passing  through,  suggested  first  one  alteration,  and  then  an- 
other, until  the  originators,  recognizing  her  superior  artistic 
judgment  and  picturesque  taste,  deferred  to  her,  and  then  the 
decorations  became  a  magnificent  work  of  art. 

Sir  Oswald  declared  himself  delighted,  and  the  captain's 
praises  were  unmeasured.  Then,  and  then  only,  Miss  Darrell 
began  to  feel  some  interest  in  the  ball;  her  love  of  beauty  was 


n6       THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  BALL. 

awakened  and  pleased — there  was  something  more  in  the  event 
than  the  mere  gratification  of  seeing  people  dance. 

The  expected  visitors  had  arrived  on  the  Tuesday — Lady 
Hampton,  radiant  with  expected  victory;  Elinor,  silent, 
thoughtful,  and  more  gentle  than  ever,  and  consequently  more 
pleasing. 

Lady  Hampton  was  delighted  with  the  idea  of  the  ball. 

"You  must  make  a  bold  stroke  for  a  husband  on  that  even- 
ing, Elinor, "  she  said.  ' '  You  shall  have  a  superb  dress,  and  I 
shall  quite  expect  you  to  receive  and  accept  an  offer  from  Sir 
Oswald." 

Elinor  Rocheford  raised  her  eyes.  There  was  something 
wistful  in  their  expression. 

"Oh,  aunt,"  she  said,   "I  like  the  captain  so  much  better!" 

Lady  Hampton  did  not  lose  her  good  humor — Elinor  was 
not  the  first  refractory  girl  she  had  brought  to  her  senses. 

"Never  mind  about  liking  the  captain,  my  dear;  that  is  only 
natural.  He  is  not  in  love  with  you.  I  can  see  through  the 
whole  business.  If  Darrell  Court  goes  to  Miss  Darrell,  he  will 
marry  her.  He  can  marry  no  girl  without  money,  because  he 
is,  I  know,  over  head  and  ears  in  debt.  Major  Penryn  was 
speaking  of  him  to-day.  The  only  way  to  prevent  his  marriage 
with  Miss  Darrell  is  for  you  to  take  Sir  Oswald  yourself." 

Elinor's  face  flushed. 

Lady  Hampton  certainly  understood  the  art  of  evoking  the 
worst  feelings.  Jealousy,  envy,  and  dislike  stirred  faintly  in  the 
gentle  heart  of  her  niece. 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  BALL.  1 1 7 

"I  hope  you  will  do  your  very  best  to  win  Sir  Oswald's  affec- 
tions," continued  Lady  Hampton,  "for  I  should  not  like  to  see 
Darrell  Court  fall  into  the  hands  of  that  proud  girl. " 

"Nor  should  I,"  assented  Miss  Rocheford. 

The  evening  of  the  ball  arrived  at  last,  and  Lady  Hampton 
stood  like  a  fairy  godmother  in  Elinor's  dressing-room,  superin- 
tending the  toilet  that  was  to  work  such  wonders.  Lady  Hamp- 
ton herself  looked  very  imposing  in  her  handsome  dress  of 
black  velvet  and  point  lace,  with  diamond  ornaments.  Elinor's 
dress  was  a  triumph  of  art.  Her  fresh,  fair,  gentle  loveliness 
shone  to  perfection,  aided  by  her  elaborate  costume  of  white 
silk  and  white  lace,  trimmed  with  green  and  silver  leaves.  The 
ornaments  were  all  of  silver — both  fringe  and  leaves ;  the  head- 
dress was  a  green  wreath  with  silver  flowers.  Nothing  could 
have  been  more  elegant  and  effective.  There  was  a  gentle 
flush  on  the  fair  face  and  a  light  in  the  blue  eyes. 

"That  will  do,  Elinor,"  said  Lady  Hompton,  complacently. 
"Your  dress  is  perfection.  I  have  no  fear  now — you  will  have 
no  rival. " 

Perhaps  Lady  Hampton  had  never  disliked  Pauline  Darrell 
more  than  on  that  night,  for  the  magnificent  beauty  of  the  girl 
had  never  been  so  apparent.  Sir  Oswald  had  given  his  niece 
carte  blanche  in  respect  to  preparation  for  the  ball,  but  she  had 
not  at  first  taken  sufficient  interest  in  the  matter  to  send  to  Lon- 
don, as  he  wished,  for  a  dress.  Later  on  she  had  gone  to  the 
large  wardrobe,  where  the  treasures  accumulated  by  the  Ladies 
Darrell  lay.  Such  shining  treasures  of  satin,  velvet,  silk,  cash- 


u8       THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  BALL. 

mere,  and  such  profusion  of  laces  and  ornaments  were  there ! 
She  selected  a  superb  costume — a  magnificent  amber  brocade, 
embroidered  with  white  flowers,  gorgeous,  beautiful,  artistic. 
It  was  a  dress  that  had  been  made  for  some  former  Lady 
Darrell. 

How  well  it  became  her !  The  amber  set  off  her  dark  beauty 
as  a  golden  frame  does  a  rich  picture.  The  dress  required  but 
little  alteration ;  it  was  cut  square,  showing  the  white,  stately, 
graceful  neck,  and  the  sleeves  hung  after  the  Grecian  fashion, 
leaving  the  round,  white  arms  bare.  The  light  shining  upon 
the  dress  changed  with  every  movement ;  it  was  as  though  the 
girl  was  enveloped  in  sunbeams.  Every  lady  present  envied 
that  dress,  and  pronounced  it  to  be  gorgeous  beyond  com- 
parison. 

Pauline's  rich  curls  of  dark  hair  were  studded  with  diamond 
stars,  and  a  diamond  necklace  clasped  her  white  throat — this 
was  Sir  Oswald's  present.  Her  artistic  taste  had  found  yet 
further  scope ;  for  she  had  enhanced  the  beauty  of  her  dress  by 
the  addition  of  white  daphnes  shrouded  in  green  leaves. 

Sir  Oswald  looked  at  her  in  admiration — her  magnificent 
beauty,  her  queenly  figure,  her  royal  grace  and  ease  of  move- 
ment, her  splendid  costume,  all  impressed  him.  From  every 
fold  of  her  shining  dress  came  a  rich,  sweet,  subtle  perfume; 
her  usually  pale  face  had  on  it  an  unwonted  flush  of  delicate 
rose-leaf  color. 

"If  she  would  but  be  like  that  sweet  Elinor!"  thought  Sir 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  BALL.  119 

Oswald.      "I  could  not  wish  for  a  more  beautiful  mistress  for 
Darrell  Court." 

She  stood  by  his  side  while  he  received  his  guests,  and  her 
dignified  ease  delighted  him. 

"Had  she  been  some  Eastern  queen/'    he  thought,    "her 

eccentricities  would  have  hurt  no  one.     As  it  is "  and  Sir 

Oswald  concluded  his  sentence  by  a  grave  shake  of  the  head. 

The  captain,  pleased  with  Miss  Rocheford's  graceful  loveli- 
ness, had  been  amusing  himself  by  paying  her  some  very  choice 
compliments,  and  she  was  delighted  with  them. 

"If  Sir   Oswald  were  only  like  him!"   she   thought;    and 
Aubrey  Langton,  meeting  the  timid,  gentle  glance,  said  to  "him- 
self that  he  must  be  careful — he  had  no  wish  to  win  the  girl's 
heart — he  should  be  quite  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do  with  it. 
When  he  saw  Pauline  his  courage  almost  failed  him. 
"How  am  I  to  ask  that  magnificent  girl  to  marry  me?"  he 
said. 

Sir  Oswald  had  expressed  a  wish  that  Aubrey  and  Pauline 
would  open  the  ball ;  it  would  give  people  an  idea  of  what  he 
wished,  he  thought,  and  prevent  other  gentlemen  from  ' '  turn- 
ing her  head "  by  paying  her  any  marked  attention.  Yet  he 
knew  how  difficult  it  would  be  for  any  one  to  win  Pauline's  re- 
gard. She  made  no  objection  when  he  expressed  his  wish  to 
her,  but  she  did  not  look  particularly  pleased. 

Captain  Langton  understood  the  art  of  dancing  better  perhaps 
than  the  art  of  war ;  he  was  perfect  in  it — even  Pauline  avowed 
it.  With  him  dancing  was  the  very  poetry  of  motion.  The 


120  THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  BALL. 

flowers,  the  lights,  the  sweet,  soft  music,  the  fragrance,  the  sil- 
very sound  of  laughter,  the  fair  faces  and  shining  jewels  of  the 
ladies,  all  stirred  and  warmed  Pauline's  imagination ;  they 
brought  bright  and  vivid  fancies  to  her,  and  touched  the  poetical 
beauty-loving  soul.  A  glow  came  over  her  face,  a  light  into 
her  proud,  dark  eyes,  her  lips  were  wreathed  in  smiles — no  one 
had  ever  seen  Pauline  so  beautiful  before. 

"You  enjoy  this,  do  you  not?"  said  Aubrey  Langton,  as  he 
watched  her  beautiful  face. 

"I  shall  do  so,"  she  replied,  "very  much  indeed;"  and  at 
what  those  words  implied  the  captain's  courage  fell  to  zero. 

He  saw  how  many  admiring  eyes  followed  her ;  he  knew  that 
all  the  gentlemen  in  the  room  were  envying  him  his  position 
with  Miss  Darrell.  He  knew  that,  pretty  as  some  of  the  girls 
were,  Pauline  outshone  them  as  the  sun  outshines  the  stars; 
and  he  knew  that  she  was  queen  of  the  fete — queen  of  the 
ball. 

"This  is  the  first  time  you  have  met  many  of  the  county 
people,  is  it  not?"  he  asked. 

She  looked  round  indifferently. 

"Yes,  it  is  the  first  time,"  she  replied. 

"Do  you  admire  any  of  the  men?  I  know  how  different 
your  taste  is  from  that  of  most  girls.  Is  there  any  one  here  who 
has  pleased  you?" 

She  laughed. 

"I  cannot  tell,"  she  answered;  "you  forget  this  is  the  first 
dance.  I  have  had  no  opportunity  of  judging. " 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  BALL.  121 

"I  believe  that  I  am  jealous  already,"  he  observed. 

She  looked  at  him ;  her  dark  eyes  made  his  heart  beat,  they 
seemed  to  look  through  him. 

"You  are  what?"  she  asked.  "Captain  Langton,  I  do  not 
understand." 

He  dared  not  repeat  the  words. 

"I  wish,"  he  said,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "that  I  had  all  the 
talent  and  all  the  wealth  in  the  world. " 

' '  For  what  reason  ?"  she  inquired. 

1 '  Because  you  would  care  for  me  then. " 

"Because  of  your  talent  and  wealth  !"  she  exclaimed.  "No, 
that  I  should  not." 

"But  I  thought  you  admired  talent  so  much,"  he  said,  in 
surprise. 

"So  I  do ;  but  mere  talent  would  never  command  my  re- 
spect, nor  mere  wealth. " 

"The  two  together  might,"  he  suggested. 

"No.  You  would  not  understand  me,  Captain  Langton, 
were  I  to  explain.  Now  this  dance  is  over,  and  I  heard  you  en- 
gage Miss  Rocheford  for  the  next." 

"And  you,"  he  said,  gloomily — "what  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

"To  enjoy  myself,"  she  replied;  and,  from  the  manner  in 
which  her  face  brightened  when  he  left  her,  the  captain  feared 
she  was  pleased  to  be  quit  of  him. 


122  PA  ULINE'S  BRIGHT  FANCIES. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

PAULINE'S   BRIGHT   FANCIES. 

The  ball  at  Darrell  Court  was  a  brilliant  success.  Sir  Oswald 
was  delighted,  Lady  Hampton  complimented  him  so  highly. 

' '  This  is  just  as  it  ought  to  be,  Sir  Oswald, "  she  said.  ' '  One 
who  can  give  such  entertainments  as  this  should  not  think  of 
retiring  from  a  world  he  is  so  well  qualified  to  adorn.  Confess, 
now,  that  under  the  influence  of  that  music  you  could  dance 
yourself. " 

Sir  Oswald  laughed. 

"I  must  plead  guilty,''  he  said.  "How  beautiful  Miss 
Rocheford  looks  to-night  I" 

"It  is  well  for  you,  Sir  Oswald,  that  you  have  not  heard  all 
the  compliments  that  the  dear  child  has  lavished  on  you ;  they 
would  have  made  you  vain. " 

Sir  Oswald's  face  brightened  with  pleasure. 

"Is  your  niece  pleased?  I  am  very  glad  indeed.  It  was 
more  to  give  her  pleasure  than  from  any  other  motive  that  I 
gave  the  ball." 

"Then  you  have  succeeded  perfectly.     Now,  Sir  Oswald,  do 


PA  ULINE'S  BRIGHT  FANCIES.  123 

you  not  see  that  what  I  said  was  true — that  an  establishment 
like  this  requires  a  mistress  ?  Darrell  Court  always  led  the  hos- 
pitalities of  the  county.  It  is  only  since  no  lady  has  lived  here 
that  it  has  fallen  into  the  background. " 

"It  shall  be  in  the  background  no  longer,"  said  Sir  Oswald. 
' '  I  think  my  first  ball  is  a  very  successful  one.  How  happy 
everybody  looks !" 

But  of  all  that  brilliant  company,  Pauline  Darrell  was  queen. 
There  were  men  present  who  would  have  given  anything  for  one 
smile  from  her  lips.  They  admired  her,  they  thought  her  beau- 
tiful beyond  comparison,  but  they  did  not  feel  quite  at  ease  with 
her.  She  was  somewhat  beyond  them;  they  did  not  under- 
stand her.  She  did  not  blush,  and  glow,  and  smile  when  they 
said  pretty  things  to  her.  When  they  gave  her  their  most  bril- 
liant small-talk,  she  had  nothing  to  give  them  in  return.  A 
soul  quite  different  from  theirs  looked  at  them  out  of  her  dark, 
proud  eyes.  They  said  to  themselves  that  she  was  very  beauti- 
ful, but  that  she  required  softening,  and  that  something  lovable 
and  tender  was  wanting  in  her.  She  was  a  queen  to  be  wor- 
shiped, an  empress  to  receive  all  homage,  but  not  a  woman  to 
be  loved.  So  they  thought  who  were  not  even  capable  of  judg- 
ing such  capacity  for  love  as  hers. 

She  was  also  not  popular  with  the  ladies.  They  thought  her 
very  superb ;  they  admired  her  magnificent  dress ;  but  they  pro- 
nounced her  proud  and  reserved.  They  said  she  gave  herself 
airs,  that  she  took  no  pains  to  make  friends  ;  and  they  did  not 
anticipate  any  very  great  rejoicings  when  Darrell  Court  should 


1 24  PA  ULINE'S  BRIGHT  FANCIES. 

belong  to  her.  The  elder  ladies  pronounced  that  judgment  on 
her ;  the  younger  ones  shrank  abashed,  and  were  slightly  timid 
in  her  presence. 

Sir  Oswald,  it  was  noticed,  led  Miss  Rocheford  in  to  supper, 
and  seemed  to  pay  her  very  great  attention.  Some  of  the  ladies 
made  observations,  but  others  said  it  was  all  nonsense ;  if  Sir 
Oswald  had  ever  intended  to  marry,  he  would  have  married 
years  ago,  and  his  choice  would  have  fallen  on  a  lady  of  mature 
age,  not  on  a  slight,  slender  girl.  Besides — and  who  could  fine 
an  answer  to  such  an  argument? — was  it  not  settled  that  Miss 
Darrell  was  to  be  his  heiress?  There  was  no  doubt  about 
that. 

The  baronet's  great  affection  for  Aubrey  Langton  was  also 
known.  More  than  one  of  the  guests  present  guessed  at  the 
arrangement  made,  and  said  that  in  all  probability  Miss  Darrell 
would  marry  the  captain,  and  that  they  would  have  the  Court 
after  Sir  Oswald's  death. 

The  banquet  was  certainly  a  magnificent  one.  The  guests 
did  full  justice  to  the  costly  wines,  the  rare  and  beautiful  fruits, 
the  recherche  dishes  prepared  with  so  much  skill  and  labor. 
When  supper  was  ended,  the  dancers  returned  to  the  ball-room, 
but  Miss  Darrell  was  already  rather  weary  of  it  all. 

She  stole  away  during  the  first  dance  after  supper.  The 
lamps  were  lighted  in  the  conservatory,  and  shed  a  soft,  pearly 
light  over  the  fragrant  flowers  ;  the  great  glass  doors  at  the  end 
were  open,  and  beyond  lay  the  moonlight,  soft,  sweet,  and  sil- 
very, steeping  the  flowers,  the  trees,  and  the  long  grass  in  its 


PA  ULINE'S  BRIGHT  FANCIES.  125 

mild  light.  Without,  all  was  so  calm,  so  still ;  there  was  the 
evening  sky  with  its  myriad  stars,  so  calm  and  so  serene  ;  close 
to  the  doors  stood  great  sheaves  of  white  lilies,  and  just  inside 
was  a  nest  of  fragrant  daphnes  and  jessamines. 

Pauline  stood  lost  in  delight ;  the  perfume  seemed  to  float  in 
from  the  moonlight  and  infold  her.  This  quiet,  holy,  tranquil 
beauty  touched  her  heart  as  the  splendor  of  the  ball-room  could 
not ;  her  soul  grew  calm  and  still ;  she  seemed  nearer  happiness 
than  she  had  ever  been  before. 

"How  beautiful  the  world  is !"  she  thought.  She  raised  her 
face,  so  serenely  placid  and  fair  in  the  moonlight;  the  silver 
radiance  fell  upon  it,  adding  all  that  was  needed  to  make  it  per- 
fect, a  blended  softness  and  tenderness.  The  gorgeous,  golden- 
hued  dress  falling  around  her,  glistened,  gleamed,  and  glowed ; 
her  diamonds  shone  like  flames.  No  artist  ever  dreamed  of  a 
fairer  picture  than  this  girl  in  the  midst  of  the  moonlight  and 
the  flowers. 

Bright  fancies  thronged  her  mind.  She  thought  of  the  time 
when  she  should  be  mistress  of  that  rich  domain.  No  merce- 
nary delight  made  her  heart  thrill ;  it  was  not  the  prospect  of 
being  rich  that  delighted  her ;  it  was  a  nobler  pride — delight  in 
the  grand  old  home  where  heroes  had  lived  and  died,  earnest 
thoughts  of  how  she  would  care  for  it,  how  she  would  love  it 
as  some  living  thing  when  it  should  be  her  own. 

Her  own !  Verily  her  lines  were  cast  in  pleasant  places ! 
She  dreamed  great  things — of  the  worthy  deeds  she  would  do, 
of  the  noble  charities  she  would  carry  out,  the  magnificent  de- 


126  PA  ULINE'S  BRIGHT  FANCIES. 

signs  she  would  bring  to  maturity  when  Darrell  Court  should 
be  hers. 

It  was  not  that  she  wished  for  it  at  once.  She  did  not  love 
Sir  Oswald — their  natures  were  too  antagonistic  for  that;  but 
she  did  not  wish — indeed,  she  was  incapable  of  washing — that 
his  life  should  be  shortened  even  for  one  hour.  She  only  re- 
membered that  in  the  course  of  time  this  grand  inheritance 
must  be  hers.  How  she  would  help  those  artist-friends  of  her 
father's !  What  orders  she  would  give  them,  what  pictures  she 
would  buy,  what  encouragement  she  would  give  to  art  and  lit- 
erature^ How  she  would  foster  genius  !  How  she  would  be- 
friend the  clever  and  gifted  poor  ones  of  the  earth ! 

The  beautiful  moonlight  seemed  to  grow  fairer,  the  blue, 
starry  heavens  nearer,  as  the  grand  and  gracious  possibilities  of 
her  life  revealed  themselves  to  her.  Her  heart  grew  warm,  her 
soul  trembled  with  delight. 

And  then — then  there  would  be  something  dearer  and  fairer 
than  all  this — something  that  comes  to  every  woman — her  birth- 
right— something  that  would  complete  her  life,  that  would 
change  it,  that  would  make  music  of  every  word,  and  harmony 
of  every  action.  The  time  would  come  when  love  would  find 
her  out,  when  the  faiiy  prince  would  wake  her  from  her  magic 
sleep.  She  was  pure  and  spotless  as  the  white  lilies  standing 
near  her ;  the  breath  of  love  had  never  passed  over  her.  There 
had  been  no  long,  idle  conversations  with  young  girls  on  the 
subject  of  love  and  lovers ;  her  heart  was  a  blank  page.  But 
there  came  to  her  that  night,  as  she  stood  dreaming  her  maiden 


PA  ULINE'S  BRIGHT  FANCIES.  127 

dreams  among  the  flowers,  an  idea  of  how  she  could  love,  and 
of  what  manner  of  man  he  would  be  who  should  win  her  love. 

Was  she  like  Undine  ?  Were  there  depths  in  her  heart  and 
soul  which  could  not  be  reached  until  love  had  brought  them 
to  light?  She  felt  in  herself  great  capabilities  that  had  never 
yet  been  exercised  or  called  into  action.  Love  would  complete 
her  life;  it  would  be  the  sun  endowing  the  flowers  with  life, 
warmth,  and  fragrance. 

What  manner  of  man  must  he  be  who  would  wake  this  soul 
of  hers  to  perfect  life  ?  She  had  seen  no  one  yet  capable  of  do- 
ing so.  The  mind  that  mastered  hers  must  be  a  master-mind; 
the  soul  that  could  bring  her  soul  into  subjection  must  be  a 
grand  soul,  a  just  soul,  noble  and  generous. 

Ah,  well,  the  moonlight  was  fair,  and  the  flowers  were  fair. 
Soon,  perhaps,  this  fair  dream  of  hers  might  be  realized,  and 
then 


128  REJECTED. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

REJECTED. 

A  shadow  came  between  Pauline  and  the  moonlight,  and  a 
quiet  voice  said  : 

"Miss  Darrell,  I  am  so  glad  to  find  you  here,  and  alone !" 

Looking  up,  she  saw  Aubrey  Langton  standing  by  her  side. 
Aubrey's  fair,  handsome  face  was  flushed,  and  there  was  the 
fragrance  of  the  wine-cup  about  him,  for  the  gallant  captain's 
courage  had  failed  him,  and  he  had  to  fortify  himself. 

He  had  seen  Miss  Darrell  go  into  the  conservatory,  and  he 
understood  her  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  she  had  gone 
thither  in  search  of  quiet.  Here  was  his  opportunity.  He  had 
been  saying  to  himself  all  day  that  he  must  watch  for  his  oppor- 
tunity. Here  it  was ;  yet  his  courage  failed  him,  and  his  heart 
sank ;  he  would  have  given  anything  to  any  one  who  would 
have  undertaken  the  task  that  lay  before  him.  There  was  so 
much  at  stake — not  only  love,  but  wealth,  fortune,  even  free- 
dom— there  was  so  much  to  be  won  or  lost,  that  he  was  fright- 
ened. 

However,  as  he  said  to  himself,  it  had  to  be  done.     He  went 


REJECTED.  129 

back  to  the  dining-room  and  poured  out  for  himself  a  tumbler 
of  the  baronet's  generous  old  wine,  which  made  his  heart  glow, 
and  diffused  warmth  through  his  whole  frame,  and  then  he  went 
on  his  difficult  errand.  He  walked  quietly  through  the  conser- 
vatory, and  saw  Pauline  standing  at  the  doors. 

He  was  not  an  artist,  he  had  nothing  of  the  poet  about  him, 
but  the  solemn  beauty  of  that  picture  did  touch  him — the  soft, 
sweet    moonlight,    the   sheaves   of  white    lilies,    the    nest    of 
daphnes,  and  that  most  beautiful  face  raised  to  the  starry  sky. 

He  stood  for  some  minutes  in  silence;  a  dim  perception  of 
his  own  unworthiness  came  over  him.  Pauline  looked  as 
though  she  stood  in  a  charmed  circle,  which  he  almost  feared 
to  enter. 

Then  he  went  up  to  her  and  spoke.  She  was  startled ;  she 
had  been  so  completely  absorbed  in  her  dreams,  and  he  was  the 
last  person  on  earth  with  whom  she  could  identify  them. 

"I  hope  I  have  not  startled  you,"  he  said.  "I  am  so  glad 
to  find  you  here,  Miss  Darrell.  t  There  is  something  I  wish  to 
say  to  you. " 

Perhaps  that  beautiful,  calm  night-scene  had  softened  her; 
she  turned  to  him  with  a  smile  more  gentle  than  he  had  ever 
seen  on  her  face  before. 

"You  want  to  tell  me  something — I  am  ready  to  listen,  Cap- 
tain Langton.  What  is  it?" 

He  came  nearer  to  her.  The  sweet,  subtle  perfume  from  the 
flowers  at  her  breast  reached  him,  the  proud  face  that  had 
always  looked  proudly  on  him,  was  near  his  own. 


130  REJECTED. 

He  came  one  step  nearer  still,  and  then  Pauline  drew  back 
with  a  haughty  gesture  that  seemed  to  scatter  the  light  in  her 
jewels. 

"I  can  hear  perfectly  well,"  she  said,  coldly.  "What  is  it 
you  have  to  tell  me  ?" 

"Pauline,  do  not  be  unkind  to  me.  Let  me  come  nearer, 
where  I  may  kneel  at  your  feet  and  pray  my  prayer. " 

His  face  flushed,  his  heart  warmed  with  his  words;  all  the 
passionate  love  that  he  really  felt  for  her  woke  within  him. 
There  was  no  feigning,  no  pretense — it  was  all  reality.  It  was 
not  Darrell  Court  he  was  thinking  of,  but  Pauline,  peerless, 
queenly  Pauline ;  and  in  that  moment  he  felt  that  he  could  give 
his  whole  life  to  win  her. 

' '  Let  me  pray  my  prayer, "  he  repeated ;  ' '  let  me  tell  you 
how  dearly  I  love  you,  Pauline — so  dearly  and  so  well  that  if 
you  send  me  from  you  my  life  will  be  a  burden  to  me,  and  I 
shall  be  the  most  wretched  of  men. " 

She  did  not  look  proud  or  angry,  but  merely  sorry.  Her 
dark  eyes  drooped,  her  lips  even  quivered. 

"You  love  me,"  she  rejoined — "really  love  me,  Captain 
Langton  ?" 

He  interrupted  her. 

' '  I  loved  you  the  first  moment  that  I  saw  you.  I  have  ad- 
mired others,  but  I  have  seen  none  like  you.  All  the  deep, 
passionate  love  of  my  heart  has  gone  out  to  you ;  and,  if  you 
throw  it  from  you,  Pauline,  I  shall  die. " 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  she  murmured,  gently. 


REJECTED.  131 

"Nay,  not  sorry.  Why  should  you  be  sorry?  You  would 
not  take  a  man's  life,  and  hold  it  in  the  hollow  of  your  hand, 
only  to  fling  it  away.  You  may  have  richer  lovers,  you  may 
have  titles  and  wealth  offered  to  you,  but  you  will  never  have  a 
love  truer  or  deeper  than  mine." 

There  was  a  ring  of  truth  about  his  words,  and  they  haunted 

her. 

"  I  know  I  am  unworthy  of  you.  If  I  were  a  crowned  king, 
and  you,  my  peerless  Pauline,  the  humblest  peasant,  I  should 
choose  you  from  the  whole  world  to  be  my  wife.  But  I  am 
only  a  soldier— a  poor  soldier.  I  have  but  one  treasure,  and 
that  I  offer  to  you — the  deepest,  truest  love  of  my  heart.  I 
would  that  I  were  a  king,  and  could  woo  you  more  worthily." 

She  looked  up  quickly — his  eyes  were  drinking  in  the  beauty 
of  her  face ;  but  there  was  something  in  them  from  which  she 
shrank  without  knowing  why.  She  would  have  spoken,  but  he 
went  on,  quickly : 

"Only  grant  my  prayer,  Pauline — promise  to  be  my  wife — 
promise  to  love  me— and  I  will  live  only  for  you.  I  will  give 
you  my  heart,  my  thoughts,  my  life.  I  will  take  you  to  bright 
sunny  lands,  and  will  show  you  all  that  the  earth  holds  beauti- 
ful and  fair.  You  shall  be  my  queen,  and  I  will  be  your  hum- 
blest slave. " 

His  voice  died  away  in  a  great  tearless  sob— he  loved  her  so 
dearly,  and  there  was  so  much  at  stake.  She  looked  at  him 
with  infinite  pity  in  her  dark  eyes.  He  had  said  all  that  he 
could  think  of;  he  had  wooed  her  as  eloquently  as  he  was  able ; 


1 32  REJECTED. 

he  had  done  his  best,  and  now  he  waited  for  some  word  from 
her. 

There  were  tenderness,  pity,  and  surprise  in  her  musical  voice 
as  she  spoke  to  him. 

"I  am  so  sorry,  Captain  Langton.  I  never  thought  you 
loved  me  so  well.  I  never  dreamed  that  you  had  placed  all 
your  heart  in  your  love. " 

"I  have,"  he  affirmed.  "I  have  been  reckless;  I  have 
thrown  heart,  love,  manhood,  life,  all  at  your  feet  together.  If 
you  trample  ruthlessly  on  them,  Pauline,  you  will  drive  me  to 
desperation  and  despair." 

"I  do  not  trample  on  them,"  she  said,  gently;  "I  would  not 
wrong  you  so.  I  take  them  up  in  my  hands  and  restore  them 
to  you,  thanking  you  for  the  gift. " 

' '  What  do  you  mean,  Pauline  ?"  he  asked,  while  the  flush 
died  from  his  face. 

"I  mean,"  she  replied,  softly,  "that  I  thank  you  for  the  gift 
you  have  offered  me,  but  that  I  cannot  accept  it  I  cannot  be 
your  wife,  for  I  do  not  love  you. " 

He  stood  for  some  minutes  dazed  by  the  heavy  blow ;  he  had 
taken  hope  from  her  gentle  manner,  and  the  disappointment 
was  almost  greater  than  he  could  bear. 

"It gives  me  as  much  pain  to  say  this,"  she  continued,  "as 
it  gives  you  to  hear  it;  pray  believe  that" 

"I  cannot  bear  it!"  he  cried.  "I  will  not  bear  it!  I  will 
not  believe  it !  It  is  my  life  I  ask  from  you,  Pauline— my  life ! 
You  cannot  send  me  from  you  to  die  in  despair !" 


REJECTED.  133 

His  anguish  was  real,  not  feigned.  Love,  life,  liberty,  all 
were  at  stake.  He  knelt  at  her  feet;  he  covered  her  white, 
jeweled  hands  with  kisses  and  with  hot,  passionate  tears.  Her 
keen  womanly  instinct  told  her  there  was  no  feigning  in  the 
deep,  broken  sob  that  rose  to  his  lips. 

"It  is  my  life!"  he  repeated.  "If  you  send  me  from  you, 
Pauline,  I  shall  be  a  desperate,  wicked  man. " 

"You  should  not  be  so,"  she  remarked,  gently;  "a  great 
love,  even  if  it  be  unfortunate,  should  ennoble  a  man,  not 
make  him  wicked. " 

"Pauline,"  he  entreated,  "you  must  unsay  those  words. 
Think  that  you  might  learn  to  love  me  in  time.  I  will  be  pa- 
tient— I  will  wait  long  years  for  you — I  will  do  anything  to  win 
you ;  only  give  me  some  hope  that  in  time  to  come  you  will  be 
mine." 

"I  cannot,"  she  said;  "it  would  be  so  false.  I  could  never 
love  you,  Captain  Langton. " 

He  raised  his  face  to  hers. 

"Will  you  tell  me  why?  You  do  not  reject  me  because  I 
am  poor — you  are  too  noble  to  care  for  wealth.  It  is  not  be- 
cause I  am  a  soldier,  with  nothing  to  offer  you  but  a  loving 
heart.  It  is  not  for  these  things.  Why  do  you  reject  me,  Pau- 
line?" 

"No,  you  are  right;  it  is  not  for  any  of  those  reasons;  they 
would  never  prevent  my  being  your  wife  if  I  loved  you." 

"Then  why  can  you  not  love  me?"  he  persisted. 

"For  many  reasons.     You  are  not  at  all  the  style  of  man  I 


I34  REJECTED. 

could  love.  How  can  you  doubt  me  ?  Here  you  are  wooing 
me,  asking  me  to  be  your  wife,  offering  me  your  love,  and  my 
hand  does  not  tremble,  my  heart  does  not  beat ;  your  words 
give  me  no  pleasure,  only  pain ;  I  am  conscious  of  nothing  but 
a  wish  to  end  the  interview.  This  is  not  love,  is  it,  Captain 
Langton  ?" 

"But  in  time,"  he  pleaded — " could  you  not  learn  to  care  for 
me  in  time  ?" 

"No,  I  am  quite  sure.  You  must  not  think  I  speak  to  pain 
you,  but  indeed  you  are  the  last  man  living  with  whom  I  could 
fell  in  love,  or  whom  I  could  marry.  If  you  were,  as  you  say, 
a  king,  and  came  to  me  with  a  crown  to  offer,  it  would  make 
no  difference.  It  is  better,  as  I  am  sure  you  will  agree,  to  speak 
plainly. " 

Even  in  the  moonlight  she  saw  how  white  his  face  had  grown, 
and  what  a  sudden  shadow  of  despair  had  come  into  his  eyes. 
He  stood  silent  for  some  minutes.* 

"You  have  unmanned  me,"  he  said,  slowly,  "but,  Pauline, 
there  is  something  else  for  you  to  hear.  You  must  listen  to  me 
for  your  own  sake, "  he  added ;  and  then  Aubrey  Langton's  face 
flushed,  his  lips  grew  dry  and  hot,  his  breath  came  in  short 
quick  gasps — he  had  played  a  manly  part,  but  now  he  felt  that 
what  he  had  to  say  would  sound  like  a  threat. 

He  did  not  know  how  to  begin,  and  she  was  looking  at  him 
with  those  dark,  calm  eyes  of  hers,  with  that  new  light  of  pity 
on  her  face. 

"Pauline,"  he  said,  hoarsely,   "Sir  Oswald  wishes  for  this 


REJECTED.  135 

marriage.  Oh,  spare  me — love  me — be  mine,  because  of  the 
great  love  I  bear  you  I" 

"I  cannot,"  she  returned;  "in  my  eyes  it  is  a  crime  to 
marry  without  love.  What  you  have  to  say  of  Sir  Oswald  say 
quickly. " 

* '  But  you  will  hate  me  for  it, "  he  said. 

"No,  I  will  not  be  so  unjust  as  to  blame  you  for  Sir  Oswald's 
fault." 

"He  wishes  us  to  marry;  he  is  not  only  willing,  but  it  would 
give  him  more  pleasure  than  anything  else  on  earth;  and  he 
says — do  not  blame  me,  Pauline — that  if  you  consent  he  will 
make  you  mistress  of  Darrell  Court  and  all  his  rich  revenues. " 

She  laughed — the  pity  died  from  her  face,  the  proud,  hard 
expression  came  back. 

' '  He  must  do  that  in  any  case, "  she  said,  haughtily.  ' '  I 
am  a  Darrell ;  he  would  not  dare  to  pass  me  by." 

"Let  me  speak  frankly  to  you,  Pauline,  for  your  own  sake — 
your  own  sake,  dear,  as  well  as  mine.  You  err — he  is  not  so 
bound.  Although  the  Darrell  property  has  always  descended 
from  father  to  son,  the  entail  was  destroyed  fifty  years  ago,  and 
Sir  Oswald  is  free  to  leave  his  property  to  whom  he  likes. 
There  is  only  one  imperative  condition — whoever  takes  it  must 
take  with  it  the  name  of  Darrell.  Sir  Oswald  told  me  that 
much  himself." 

"But  he  would  not  dare  to  pass  me — a  Darrell — by,  and 
leave  it  to  a  stranger. " 

' '  Perhaps  not ;  but,  honestly,  Pauline,  he  told  me  that  you 


136  REJECTED. 

were  eccentric — I  know  that  you  are  adorable — and  that  he 
would  not  dare  to  leave  Darrell  Court  to  you  unless  you  were 
married  to  some  one  in  whom  he  felt  confidence — and  that 
some  one,  Pauline,  is  your  humble  slave  here,  who  adores  you. 
Listen,  dear— I  have  not  finished.  He  said  nothing  about  leav- 
ing the  Court  to  a  stranger ;  but  he  did  say  that  unless  we  were 
married  he  himself  should  marry. " 
She  laughed  mockingly. 

"I  do  not  believe  it,"  she  said.  "If  he  had  intended  to 
marry,  he  would  have  done  so  years  ago.  That  is  merely  a 
threat  to  frighten  me ;  but  I  am  not  to  be  frightened.  No  Dar- 
rell was  ever  a  coward — I  will  not  be  coerced.  Even  if  I  liked 
you,  Captain  Langton,  I  would  not  marry  you  after  that  threat. " 

He  was  growing  desperate  now.  Great  drops  stood  on  his 
brow — his  lips  were  so  hot  and  tremulous  that  he  could  hardly 
move  them. 

"Be  reasonable,  Pauline.  Sir  Oswald  meant  what  he  said, 
He  will  most  certainly  marry,  and,  when  you  see  yourself  de- 
prived of  this  rich  inheritance,  you  will  hate  your  folly — hate 
and  detest  it. " 

"I  would  not  purchase  twenty  Darrell  Courts  at  the  price  of 
marrying  a  man  I  do  not  like,"  she  said,  proudly. 

"You  think  it  an  idle  threat — it  is  not  so.  Sir  Oswald 
meant  it  in  all  truth.  Oh,  Pauline,  love,  riches,  position, 
wealth,  honor — all  lie  before  you ;  will  you  willfully  reject 
them  ?" 

"I  should  consider  it  dishonor  to  marry  you  for  the  sake  of 


REJECTED.  I37 

winning  Darrell  Court,  and  I  will  not  do  it.  It  will  be  mine 
without  that ;  and,  if  not,  I  would  rather  a  thousand  times  go 
without  it  than  pay  the  price  named,  and  you  may  tell  Sir  Os- 
wald so." 

There  was  no  more  pity — no  more  tenderness  in  the  beautiful 
face.  It  was  all  aglow  with  scorn,  lighted  with  pride,  flushed 
with  contempt.  The  spell  of  the  sweet  moonlight  was  broken 
— the  Darrell  spirit  was  aroused — the  fiery  Darrell  pride  was  all 
ablaze. 

He  felt  angry  enough  to  leave  her  at  that  moment  and  never 
look  upon  her  again ;  but  his  position  was  so  terrible,  and  he 
had  so  much  at  stake.  He  humbled  himself  again  and  again — 
he  entreated  her  in  such  wild,  passionate  tones  as  must  have 
touched  one  less  proud. 

"I  am  a  desperate  man,  Pauline,"  he  cried,  at  last;  "and  I 
pray  you,  for  Heaven's  sake,  do  not  drive  me  to  despair. " 

But  no  words  of  his  had  power  to  move  her ;  there  was  noth- 
ing but  scorn  in  the  beautiful  face,  nothing  but  scorn  in  the 
willful,  passionate  heart. 

"Sir  Oswald  should  have  known  better  than  to  use  threats  to 
a  Darrell !"  she  said,  with  a  flash  of  her  dark  eyes ;  and  not  the 
least  impression  could  Aubrey  Langton  make  upon  her. 

He  was  silent  at  last  in  sheer  despair.  It  was  all  over ;  he 
had  no  more  hope.  Life  had  never  held  such  a  brilliant  chance 
for  any  man,  and  now  it  was  utterly  lost.  Instead  of  wealth, 
luxury,  happiness,  there  was  nothing  before  him  but  disgrace. 
He  could  almost  have  cursed  her  as  she  stood  there  in  the 


138  REJECTED. 

moonlight  before  him.  A  deep  groan,  one  of  utter,  uncontrol- 
lable rfnguish  escaped  his  lips.  She  went  nearer  to  him  and 
started  back  in  wonder  at  the  white,  settled  despair  on  his  face. 

"Captain  Langton,"  she  said,  quietly,  "I  am  sorry— I  am 
soriy — I  am  indeed  sorry — that  you  feel  this  so  keenly.  Let 
me  comfort  you." 

He  appealed  to  her  again  more  passionately  than  ever,  but 
she  interrupted  him. 

"You  mistake  me,"  she  said;  "I  am  grieved  to  see  you 
suffer,  but  I  have  no  thought  of  altering  my  mind.  Let  me  tell 
you,  once  and  for  all,  I  would  rather  die  than  marry  you,  be- 
cause I  have  neither  liking  nor  respect  for  you  ;  but  your  sorrow 
I  cannot  but  feel  for. " 

"You  have  ruined  me,"  he  said,  bitterly,  "and  the  curse  of 
a  broken-hearted  man  will  rest  upon  you  !" 

"I  do  not  think  the  Darrells  are  much  frightened  at  curses," 
she  retorted ;  and  then,  in  all  the  magnificence  of  her  shining 
gems  and  golden-hued  dress,  she  swept  from  the  spot. 

Yes,  he  was  ruined,  desperate.  Half  an  hour  since,  entering 
that  conservatory,  he  had  wondered  whether  he  should  leave  it  a 
happy,  prosperous  man.  He  knew  now  that  there  was  nothing 
but  blank,  awful  despair,  ruin  and  shame,  before  him.  He  had 
lost  her,  too,  and  love  and  hate  fought  fiercely  in  his  heart. 
He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  sobbed  aloud. 

A  ruined  man!  Was  ever  so  splendid  a  chance  lost?  It 
drove  him  mad  to  think  of  it !  All  was  due  to  the  willful 
caprice  of  a  willful  girl. 


REJECTED.  I39 

Then  he  remembered  that  time  was  passing,  and  that  he  must 
tell  Sir  Oswald  that  he  had  failed — utterly,  ignominiously  failed. 
He  went  back  to  the  ball-room  and  saw  the  baronet  standing  in 
the  center  of  a  group  of  gentlemen.  He  looked  anxiously  at 
the  captain,  and  at  his  approach  the  little  group  fell  back,  leav- 
ing them  alone. 

"What  news,  Aubrey?"  asked  Sir  Oswald. 

' '  The  worst  that  I  can  possibly  bring.  She  would  not  even 
hear  of  it." 

''And  you  think  there  is  no  hope  either  now  or  at  any  future 
time?" 

"I  am,  unfortunately,  sure  of  it.  She  told  me  in  plain 
words  that  she  would  rather  die  than  marry  me,  and  she  laughed 
at  your  threats." 

Sir  Oswald's  face  flushed ;  he  turned  away  haughtily. 

"The  consequence  be  on  her  own  head!"  he  said,  as  he 
moved  away.  "I  shall  make  Elinor  Rocheford  an  offer  to- 
night, "  he  added  to  himself. 

The  captain  was  in  no  mood  for  dancing;  the  music  and 
light  had  lost  all  their  charms.  The  strains  of  a  beautiful  Ger- 
man waltz  filled  the  ball-room.  Looking  round,  he  saw  Pau- 
line Darrell,  in  all  the  sheen  of  her  jewels  and  the  splendor  of 
her  golden-hued  dress,  waltzing  with  Lord  Lorrimer.  Her 
beautiful  face  was  radiant ;  she  had  evidently  forgotten  all  about 
him  and  the  threat  that  was  to  disinherit  her. 

Sir  Oswald  saw  her  too  as  he  was  searching  for  Elinor — saw 
her  radiant,  triumphant,  and  queeniy — and  almost  hated  her 


i4o  REJECTED. 

for  the  grand  dower  of  loveliness  that  would  never  now  enhance 
the  grandeur  of  the  Barrel  Is.  He  found  Elinor  Rocheford  with 
Lady  Hampton.  She  had  been  hoping  that  the  captain  would 
ask  her  to  dance  again.  She  looked  toward  him  with  a  faint 
smile,  but  was  recalled  to  order  by  a  gesture  from  Lady 
Hampton. 

Sir  Oswald,  with  a  low  bow,  asked  if  Miss  Rocheford  would 
like  a  promenade  through  the  rooms.  She  would  fain  have 
said  "No,"  but  one  look  from  her  aunt  was  sufficient.  She 
rose  in  her  quiet,  graceful  way,  and  accompanied  him. 

They  walked  to  what  was  called  the  white  drawing-room, 
and  there,  standing  before  a  magnificent  Murillo,  the  gem  of 
the  Darrell  collection,  Sir  Oswald  Darrell  made  Elinor  Roche- 
ford  a  quiet  offer  of  his  hand  and  fortune. 

Just  as  quietly  she  accepted  it;  there  was  no  blushing,  no 
trembling,  no  shrinking.  He  asked  her  to  be  Lady  Darrell, 
and  she  consented.  There  was  very  little  said  of  love,  although 
his  wooing  was  chivalrous  and  deferential.  He  had  secured  his 
object — won  a  fair  young  wife  for  himself,  and  punished  the 
proud,  defiant,  willful  girl  who  had  laughed  at  his  threats. 
After  some  little  time  he  led  his  fair  companion  back  to  Lady 
Hampton. 

"Miss  Rocheford  has  done  me  very  great  honor, "  he  said; 
"she  has  consented  to  be  my  wife.  I  will  give  myself  the 
pleasure  of  waiting  upon  you  to-morrow,  Lady  Hampton,  when 
I  shall  venture  to  ask  for  a  happy  and  speedy  conclusion  to  my 
suit" 


REJECTED.  I4I 

Lady  Hampton,  with  a  gentle  movement  of  her  fan,  intended 
to  express  emotion,  murmured  a  few  words,  and  the  interview 
was  ended. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Elinor,"  she  said.  "You  have  secured 
a  splendid  position;  no  girl  in  England  could  have  done 
better." 

"Yes,"  returned  Elinor  Rocheford,  "I  ought  to  be  ticketed, 
'Sold  to  advantage;'"  and  that  was  the  only  bitter  thing  the 
young  girl  ever  said  of  her  brilliant  marriage. 

Of  course  Lady  Hampton  told  the  delightful  news  to  a  few 
of  her  dearest  friends;  and  these,  watching  Pauline  Darrell 
that  night  in  the  splendor  of  her  grand  young  beauty,  the 
sheen  of  her  jewels,  and  the  glitter  of  her  rich  amber  dress, 
knew  that  her  reign  was  ended,  her  chance  of  the  inheritance 
gone. 


i42        PAULINE  THREATENS  VENGEANCE. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PAULINE    THREATENS    VENGEANCE. 

"Pray  do  not  leave  us,  Miss  Hastings;  I  wish  you  to  hear 
what  I  have  to  say  to  my  niece,  if  you  will  consent  to  remain ;" 
and  Sir  Oswald  placed  a  chair  for  the  gentle,  amiable  lady,  who 
was  so  fearful  of  coming  harm  to  her  willful  pupil. 

Miss  Hastings  took  it,  and  looked  apprehensively  at  the 
baronet  It  was  the  morning  after  the  ball,  and  Sir  Oswald  had 
sent  to  request  the  presence  of  both  ladies  in  the  library. 

Pauline  looked  fresh  and  brilliant ;  fatigue  had  not  affected 
her.  She  had  taken  more  pains  than  usual  with  her  toilet; 
her  dress  was  a  plain  yet  handsome  morning  costume.  There 
was  no  trace  of  fear  on  her  countenance ;  the  threats  of  the 
previous  night  had  made  no  impression  upon  her.  She  looked 
calmly  at  Sir  Oswald's  flushed,  agitated  face. 

"Pray  be  seated,  Miss  Darrell,"  he  said ;  "it  is  you  especially 
whom  I  wish  to  see. " 

Pauline  took  a  chair  and  looked  at  him  with  an  air  of  great 
attention.  Sir  Oswald  turned  the  diamond  ring  on  his  finger. 


PA  ULINE  THREA  TENS  VENGEANCE.         1 4 3 

"Am  I  to  understand,  Miss  Darrell,"  he  asked,  "that  you 
refused  Captain  Langton  last  evening?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  distinctly. 

"Will  you  permit  me  to  ask  why?"  he  continued. 

"Because  I  do  not  love  him,  Sir  Oswald.  I  may  even  go 
further,  and  say  I  do  not  respect  him. " 

"Yet  he  is  a  gentleman  by  birth  and  education,  handsome, 
most  agreeable  in  manner,  devoted  to  you,  and  my  friend. " 

"I  do  not  love  him,"  she  said  again;  "and  the  Darrells  are 
too  true  a  race  to  marry  without  love." 

The  allusion  to  his  race  pleased  the  baronet,  in  spite  of  his 
anger. 

"Did  Captain  Langton  give  you  to  understand  the  alterna- 
tive?" asked  Sir  Oswald.  "Did  he  tell  you  my  resolve  in  case 
you  should  refuse  him  ?" 

She  laughed  a  clear,  ringing  laugh,  in  which  there  was  a  slight 
tinge  of  mockery.  Slight  though  it  was,  Sir  Oswald's  face 
flushed  hotly  as  he  heard  it. 

"He  told  me  that  you  would  disinherit  me  if  I  did  not  marry 
him ;  but  I  told  him  you  would  never  ignore  the  claim  of  the 
last  living  Darrell — you  would  not  pass  me  over  and  make  a 
stranger  your  heir. " 

' '  But  did  he  tell  you  my  intentions  if  you  refused  him  ?" 

Again  came  the  musical  laugh  that  seemed  to  irritate  Sir  Os- 
wald so  greatly. 

' '  He  talked  some  nonsense  about  your  marrying, "  said  Pau- 
line; "but  that  of  course  I  did  not  believe." 


144        PAULINE  THREATENS  VENGEANCE. 

"And  why  did  you  not  believe  it,  Miss  Darrell?" 

"Because  I  thought  if  you  had  wished  to  many  you  would 
have  married  before  this, "  she  replied. 

"And  you  think,"  he  said,  his  face  pale  with  passion,  "that 
you  may  do  as  you  like — that  your  contempt  for  all  proper 
laws,  your  willful  caprice,  your  unendurable  pride,  are  to  rule 
every  one  ?  You  are  mistaken,  Miss  Darrell.  If  you  had  con- 
sented to  marry  Aubrey  Langton,  I  would  have  made  you  my 
heiress,  because  I  should  have  known  that  you  were  in  safe 
hands,  under  proper  guidance  ;  as  it  is — as  you  have  refused  in 
every  instance  to  obey  me,  as  you  have  persisted  in  ignoring 
every  wish  of  mine — it  is  time  we  came  to  a  proper  understand- 
ing. I  beg  to  announce  to  you  the  fact  that  I  am  engaged  to 
be  married — that  I  have  offered  my  hand  and  heart  to  a  lady 
who  is  as  gentle  as  you  are  the  reverse. " 

A  dread  silence  followed  the  words ;  Pauline  bore  the  blow 
like  a  true  Darrell,  never  flinching,  never  showing  the  least  dis- 
may. After  a  time  she  raised  her  dark,  proud  eyes  to  his  face. 

"If  your  marriage  is  for  your  happiness,  I  wish  you  joy," 
she  said,  simply. 

' '  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  it  will  add  greatly  to  my  happi- 
ness," he  put  in,  shortly. 

"At  the  same  time,"  resumed  Pauline,  "I  must  tell  you 
frankly  that  I  do  not  think  you  have  used  me  well.  You  told 
me  when  I  came  here  that  I  was  to  be  heiress  of  Darrell  Court. 
I  have  grown  to  love  it,  I  have  shaped  my  life  in  accordance 


PAULINE  THREATENS  VENGEANCE.         145 

with  what  you  said  to  me,  and  I  do  not  think  it  fair  that  you 
should  change  your  intentions." 

"You  have  persistently  defied  me,"  returned  the  baronet; 
"you  have  preferred  your  least  caprice  to  my  wish;  and  now 
you  must  reap  your  reward.  Had  you  been  dutiful,  obedient, 
submissive,  you  might  have  made  yourself  very  dear  to  me. 
Pray,  listen. "  He  raised  his  fine  white  hand  with  a  gesture  that 
demanded  silence.  "My  marriage  need  not  make  any  differ- 
ence as  regards  your  residence  here.  As  you  say,  you  are  a 
Darrell,  and  my  niece,  so  your  home  is  here ;  and,  unless  you 
make  yourself  intolerable,  you  shall  always  have  a  home  suit- 
able to  your  position.  But,  as  I  can  never  hope  that  you  will 
prove  an  agreeable  companion  to  the  lady  who  honors  me  by 
becoming  my  wife,  I  should  be  grateful  to  Miss  Hastings  if  she 
would  remain  with  you." 

Miss  Hastings  bowed  her  head ;  she  was  too  deeply  grieved 
for  words. 

"It  is  my  wish  that  you  retain  your  present  suite  of  rooms," 
continued  Sir  Oswald;  "and  Lady  Darrell,  when  she  comes, 
will,  I  am  sure,  try  to  make  everything  pleasant  for  you.  I 
have  no  more  to  say.  As  for  expressing  any  regret  for  the  part 
you  have  acted  toward  my  young  friend,  Aubrey  Langton,  it  is 
useless — we  will  let  the  matter  drop. " 

All  the  Darrell  pride  and  passion  had  been  slowly  gathering 
in  Pauline's  heart ;  a  torrent  of  burning  words  rose  to  her  lips. 

"If  you  wish  to  marry,  Sir  Oswald,"  she  said,  "you  have  a 
perfect  right  to  do  so — no  one  can  gainsay  that ;  but  I  say  you 


i46        PAULINE  THREATENS  VENGEANCE. 

have  acted  neither  justly  nor  fairly  to  me.  As  for  the  stranger 
you  would  bring  to  rule  over  me,  I  shall  hate  her,  and  I  will  be 
revenged  on  her.  I  shall  tell  her  that  she  is  taking  my  place ; 
I  shall  speak  my  mind  openly  to  her ;  and,  if  she  chooses  to 
marry  you,  to  help  you  to  punish  me,  she  shall  take  the  conse- 
quences. " 

Sir  Oswald  laughed. 

"I  might  be  alarmed  by  such  a  melodramatic  outburst,"  he 
said,  ' '  but  that  I  know  you  are  quite  powerless ;"  and  with  a 
profound  bow  to  Miss  Hastings,  Sir  Oswald  quitted  the  library. 
Then  Pauline's  anger  burst  forth ;  she  grew  white  with  rage. 
"I  have  not  been  fairly  used,"  she  cried.      "He  told  me 
Darrell  Court  was  to  be  mine.     My  heart  has  grown  to  love  it  ; 
I  love  it  better  than  I  love  anything  living. " 

Miss  Hastings,  like  a  sensible  woman,  refrained  from  saying 
anything  on  the  subject — from  reminding  her  that  she  had  been 
warned  time  after  time,  and  had  only  laughed  at  the  warning. 
She  tried  to  offer  some  soothing  words,  but  the  girl  would  not 
listen  to  them.  Her  heart  and  soul  were  in  angry  revolt. 

"I  might  have  been  a  useful  woman,"  she  said,  suddenly, 
"if  I  had  had  this  chance  in  life;  I  might  have  been  happy  my- 
self, and  have  made  others  happy.  As  it  is,  I  swear  that  I  will 
live  only  for  vengeance. " 

She  raised  her  beautiful  white  arm  and  jeweled  hand. 
"Listen  to  me,"  she  said;    "I  will  live  for  vengeance— not 
on  Sir  Oswald — if  he  chooses  to  marry,  let  him — but  I  will  first 
Farn  the  woman  he  marries,  and  then,  if  she  likes  to  come  here 


PA  ULINE  THREA  TENS  VENGEANCE.         1 4 7 

is  Lady  Darrell,  despite  my  warning,  let  her.  I  will  take  such 
rengeance  on  her  as  suits  a  Darrell — nothing  commonplace — 
lothing  in  the  way  of  poisoning — but  such  revenge  as  shall 
atisfy  even  me." 

In  vain  Miss  Hastings  tried  to  soothe  her,  to  calm  her,  the 
orrent  of  angry  words  had  their  way. 

Then  she  came  over  to  Miss  Hastings,  and,  placing  her  hand 
>n  her  shoulder,  asked  : 

"Tell  me,  whom  do  you  think  Sir  Oswald  is  going  to 
aarry?" 

' '  I  cannot  imagine — unless  it  is  Miss  Rocheford. " 

" Elinor  Rocheford — that  mere  child  !     Let  her  beware  \" 


i48  CAPTAIN  LANGTON  DESPERATE. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

CAPTAIN    LANGTON    DESPERATE. 

A  short  period  of  calm  fell  upon  Darrell  Court.  Miss  Dar- 
rell's  passion  seemed  to  have  exhausted  itself. 

"I  will  never  believe,"  she  said  one  day  to  Miss  Hastings, 
"that  Sir  Oswald  meant  what  he  said.  I  am  beginning  to 
think  it  was  merely  a  threat — the  Darrells  are  all  hot-tempered. " 

But  Miss  Hastings  had  heard  more  than  she  liked  to  tell  her 
pupil,  and  she  knew  that  what  the  baronet  had  said  was  not 
only  quite  true,  but  that  preparations  for  the  marriage  had  actu- 
ally commenced. 

"I  am  afraid  it  was  no  threat,  Pauline,"  she  said,  sadly. 

"Then  let  the  new-comer  beware,"  said  the  girl,  her  face  dark- 
ening. "  Whoever  she  may  be,  let  her  beware.  I  might  have 
been  a  good  woman,  but  this  will  make  me  a  wicked  one.  I 
shall  live  only  for  revenge. " 

A  change  came  over  her.  The  improvement  that  Miss  Hast- 
ings had  so  fondly  noticed,  and  of  which  she  had  been  so  proud, 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON  DESPERA  TE.  149 

died  away.  Pauline  seemed  no  longer  to  take  any  interest  in 
.reading  or  study.  She  would  sit  for  hours  in  gloomy,  sullen 
silence,  with  an  abstracted  look  on  her  face.  What  was  passing 
in  her  mind  no  one  knew.  Miss  Hastings  would  go  to  her, 
and  try  to  rouse  her ;  but  Pauline  grew  impatient. 

"Do  leave  me  in  peace,"  she  would  say.  "  Leave  me  to  my 
own  thoughts.  I  am  framing  my  plans." 

And  the  smile  that  came  with  the  words  filled  poor  Miss 
Hastings  with  terrible  apprehensions  as  to  the  future  of  her 
strange,  willful  pupil. 

The  captain  was  still  at  the  Court.  He  had  had  some  vague 
idea  of  rushing  off  to  London ;  but  a  letter  from  one  of  his 
most  intimate  friends  warned  him  to  keep  out  of  the  way  until 
some  arrangement  could  be  made  about  his  affairs.  More  than 
one  angry  creditor  was  waiting  for  him ;  indeed,  the  gallant  cap- 
tain had  brought  his  affairs  to  such  a  pass  that  his  appearance 
in  London  without  either  money  or  the  hope  of  it  would  have 
been  highly  dangerous. 

He  was  desperate.  Sir  Oswald  had  hinted  to  him,  since  the 
failure  of  their  plan,  that  he  should  not  be  forgotten  in  his  will. 
He  would  have  borrowed  money  from  him  but  for  that  hint ; 
but  he  did  not  care  to  risk  the  loss  of  many  thousand  pounds 
for  the  sake  of  fifteen  hundred. 

Fifteen  hundred — that  was  all  he  wanted.  If  he  could  have 
gone  back  to  London  the  betrothed  husband  of  Pauline  Darrell, 
he  could  have  borrowed  as  many  thousands ;  but  that  chance 
was  gone ;  and  he  could  have  cursed  the  girlish  caprice  that  de- 


1 50  CAPTAIN  LANGTON  DESPERA  TE. 

prived  him  of  so  splendid  a  fortune.  In  his  heart  fierce  love 
and  fierce  hate  warred  together;  there  were  times  when  he  felt 
that  he  loved  Pauline  with  a  passion  words  could  not  describe  ; 
and  at  other  times  he  hated  her  with  something  passing  com- 
mon hate.  They  spoke  but  little ;  Miss  Darrell  spent  as  much 
time  as  possible  in  her  own  rooms.  Altogether  the  domestic 
atmosphere  at  Darrell  Court  had  in  it  no  sunshine;  it  was 
rather  the  brooding,  sullen  calm  that  comes  before  a  storm. 

The  day  came  when  the  Court  was  invaded  by  an  army  of 
workmen,  when  a  suit  of  rooms  was  fitted  up  in  the  most 
superb  style,  and  people  began  to  talk  of  the  coming  change. 
Pauline  Darrell  kept  so  entirely  aloof  from  all  gossip,  from  all 
friends  and  visitors,  that  she  was  the  last  to  hear  on  whom  Sir 
Oswald's  choice  had  fallen.  But  one  day  the  baronet  gave  a 
dinner-party  at  which  the  ladies  of  the  house  were  present,  and 
there  was  no  mistaking  the  allusions  made. 

Pauline  DarreH's  face  grew  dark  as  she  listened.  So,  then, 
the  threat  was  to  be  carried  out,  and  the  grand  old  place  that 
she  had  learned  to  love  with  the  deepest  love  of  her  heart  was 
never  to  be  hers !  She  gave  no  sign ;  the  proud  face  was  very 
pale,  and  the  dark  eyes  had  in  them  a  scornful  gleam,  but  no 
word  passed  her  lips. 

Sir  Oswald  was  radiant,  he  had  never  been  seen  in  such  high 
spirits ;  his  friends  had  congratulated  him,  every  one  seemed  to 
approve  so  highly  of  his  resolution ;  a  fair  and  gentle  wife  was 
ready  for  him — one  so  fair  and  gentle  that  it  seemed  to  the  old 
man  as  though  the  lost  love  of  his  youth  had  returned  to  him. 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON  DESPERA  TE.  151 

Who  remembered  the  bitter,  gnawing  disappointment  of  the  girl 
who  had  cared  so  little  about  making  herself  friends  ? 

The  baronet  was  so  delighted,  and  everything  seemed  so 
bright  and  smiling,  that  he  resolved  upon  an  act  of  unusual 
generosity.  His  guests  went  away  early,  and  he  retired  to  the 
library  for  a  few  minutes.  The  captain  followed  the  ladies  to 
the  drawing-room,  and,  while  pretending  to  read,  sat  watching 
Pauline's  face,  and  wondering  how  he  was  to  pay  his  debts. 

To  ask  for  the  loan  of  fiteen  hundred  pounds  would  be  to 
expose  his  affairs  to  Sir  Oswald.  He  must  confess  then  that  he 
had  gambled  on  the'  turf  and  at  play.  If  once  the  stately  old 
baronet  even  suspected  such  a  thing,  there  was  no  further  hope 
of  a  legacy — the  captain  was  quite  sure  of  that.  His  anxiety 
was  terrible,  and  it  was  all  occasioned  by  that  proud,  willful  girl 
whose  beautiful  face  was  turned  resolutely  from  him. 

Sir  Oswald  entered  the  room  with  a  smile  on  his  face,  and, 
going  up  to  Aubrey  Langton,  slipped  a  folded  paper  into  his 
hands. 

"Not  a  word  of  thanks,"  he  said ;  "if  you  thank  me,  I  shall 
be  offended." 

And  Aubrey,  opening  the  paper,  found  that  it  was  a  check 
for  five  hundred  pounds. 

"I  know  what  life  in  London  costs,"  said  Sir  Oswald  ;  "and 
you  are  my  old  friend's  son. " 

Five  hundred  pounds !  He  was  compelled  to  look  exceed- 
ingly grateful,  but  it  was  difficult.  The  gift  was  very  welcome, 


1 5 2  CAPTAIN  LANGTON  DESPERA  TE. 

but  there  was  this  great  drawback  attending  it — it  was  not  half 
sufficient  to  relieve  him  from  his  embarrassments,  and  it  would 
quite  prevent  his  asking  Sir  Oswald  for  a  loan.  He  sighed 
deeply  in  his  dire  perplexity. 

Still  smiling,  the  baronet  went  to  the  table  where  Pauline  and 
Miss  Hastings  sat  He  stood  for  some  minutes  looking  at 
them. 

"I  must  not  let  you  hear  the  news  of  my  good  fortune  from 
strangers,"  he  said ;  "it  is  only  due  to  you  that  I  should  inform 
you  that  in  one  month  from  to-day  I  hope  to  have  the  honor 
and  happiness  of  making  Miss  Elinor  Rocheford  my  wife. " 

Miss  Hastings  in  a  few  cautious  words  wished  him  joy ;  Pau- 
line's white  lips  opened,  but  no  sound  escaped  them.  Sir  Os- 
wald remained  for  some  minutes  talking  to  Miss  Hastings,  and 
then  he  crossed  the  room  and  rang  the  bell. 

"Pauline,  my  dearest  child!"  whispered  the  anxious  gov- 
erness. 

Miss  Darrell  looked  at  her  with  a  terrible  smile. 
"It  would  have  been  better  for  her,"  she  said,  slowly,  "that 
she  had  never  been  born. " 

"Pauline !"  cried  the  governess.     But  she  said  no  more. 

A  footman  entered  the  room,  to  whom  Sir  Oswald  spoke. 

"Go  to  my  study,"  he  said,  "and  bring  me  a  black  ebony 
box  that  you  will  find  locked  in  my  writing-table.  Here  are 
the  keys." 

The  man  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  bearing  the  box  in  his 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON  DESPERA  TE.  1 53 

hands.  Sir  Oswald  took  it  to  the  table  where  the  lamps  shone 
brightly. 

"Aubrey/'  he  said,  "will  you  come  here?  I  have  a  com- 
mission for  you. " 

Captain  Langton  followed  him  to  the  table,  and  some  remark 
about  the  fashion  of  the  box  drew  the  attention  of  all  present 
to  it.  Sir  Oswald  raised  the  lid,  and  produced  a  diamond  ring. 

"You  are  going  over  to  Audleigh  Royal  to-morrow,  Aubrey," 
he  said;  "will  you  leave  this  with  Stamford,  the  jeweler?  I 
have  chosen  a  new  setting  for  the  stone.  I  wish  to  present  it  to 
Miss  Hastings  as  a  mark  of  my  deep  gratitude  to  her. " 

Miss  Hastings  looked  up  in  grateful  wonder.  Sir  Oswald 
went  on  talking  about  the  contents  of  the  ebony  box.  He 
showed  them  many  quaint  treasures  that  it  contained  ;  among 
other  things  he  took  out  a  roll  of  bank-notes. 

"That  is  not  a  very  safe  method  of  keeping '  money,  Sir  Os- 
wald," said  Miss  Hastings. 

"No,  you  are  right/'  he  agreed.  "Simpson's  clerk  paid  it 
to  me  the  other  day  ;  I  was  busy,  and  I  put  it  there  until  I  had 
time  to  take  the  numbers  of  the  notes. " 

"Do  you  keep  notes  without  preserving  a  memorandum  of 
their  numbers,  Sir  Oswald ?"  inquired  Aubrey  Langton.  "That 
seems  to  me  a  great  risk. " 

"I  know  it  is  not  prudent;  but  there  is  no  fear.  I  have 
none  but  honest  and  faithful  servants  about  me.  I  will  take  the 
numbers  and  send  the  notes  to  the  bank  to-morrow. " 


1 54  CAPTAIN  LANGTON  DESPERA  TE. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Hastings,  quietly,  "it  is  better  to  keep 
temptation  from  servants." 

"There  is  no  fear,"  he  returned.  "I  always  put  the  box 
away,  and  I  sleep  with  my  keys  under  my  pillow. " 

Sir  Oswald  gave  Captain  Langton  a  few  directions  about  the 
diamond,  and  then  the  ladies  withdrew. 

"Sir  Oswald,"  said  Capton  Langton,  "let  me  have  a  cigar 
with  you  to-night.  I  must  not  thank  you,  but  if  you  knew 
how  grateful  I  feel " 

' '  I  will  put  away  the  box  first,  and  then  we  will  have  a  glass 
of  wine,  Aubrey. " 

The  baronet  went  to  his  study,  and  the  captain  to  his  room  ; 
but  in  a  few  minutes  they  met  again,  and  Sir  Oswald  ordered  a 
bottle  of  his  choicest  Madeira.  They  sat  talking  for  some 
time,  and  Sir  Oswald  told  Aubrey  all  his  plans — all  that  he  in- 
tended to  do.  The  young  man  listened,  with  envy  and  dissat- 
isfaction burning  in  his  heart.  All  these  plans,  these  hopes, 
these  prospects,  might  have  been  his  but  for  that  girl's  cruel 
caprice. 

They  talked  for  more  than  an  hour;  and  then  Sir  Oswald 
complained  of  feeling  sleepy. 

' '  The  wine  does  not  seem  to  have  its  usual  flavor  to-night, ' 
he  said ;  ' '  there  is  something  wrong  with  this  bottle. " 

"I  thought  the  same  thing,"  observed  Aubrey  Langton; 
"but  I  did  not  like  to  say  so.  I  will  bid  you  good-night,  as 
you  are  tired.  I  shall  ride  over  to  Audleigh  Royal  early  in  the 
morning,  so  I  may  not  be  here  for  breakfast." 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON  DESPERA TE.  155 

They  shook  hands  and  parted,  Sir  Oswald  murmuring  some- 
thing about  his  Madeira,  and  the  captain  feeling  more  desperate 
than  ever. 


156  MYSTERIOUS  ROBBERY. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MYSTERIOUS       ROBBERY. 

The  sun  shone  on  Darrell  Court ;  the  warmth  and  brightness 
of  the  day  were  more  than  pleasant.  The  sunbeams  fell  on  the 
stately  trees,  the  brilliant  flowers.  There  was  deep  silence  in 
the  mansion.  Captain  Langton  had  been  gone  some  hours. 
Sir  Oswald  was  in  his  study.  Pauline  sat  with  Miss  Hastings 
under  the  shade  of  the  cedar  on  the  lawn.  She  had  a  book  in 
her  hands,  but  she  had  not  turned  a  page.  Miss  Hastings 
would  fain  have  said  something  to  her  about  inattention,  but 
there  was  a  look  in  the  girl's  face  that  frightened  her — a  proud, 
hard,  cold  look  that  she  had  never  seen  there  before. 

Pauline  Darrell  was  not  herself  that  morning.  Miss  Hast- 
ings had  told  her  so  several  times.  She  had  asked  her  again 
and  again  if  she  was  ill — if  she  was  tired — and  she  had  answered 
drearily,  "No."  Partly  to  cheer  her,  the  governess  had  sug- 
gested that  they  should  take  their  books  under  the  shade  of  the 
cedar  tree.  She  had  assented  wearily,  without  one  gleam  of 
animation. 


MYSTERIOUS  ROBBERY.  157 

Out  there  in  the  sunlight  Miss  Hastings  noticed  how  cold 
and  white  Pauline's  face  was,  with  its  hard,  set  look — there  was 
a  shadow  in  the  dark  eyes,  and,  unlike  herself,  she  started  at 
every  sound.  Miss  Hastings  watched  her  keenly.  She  evinced 
no  displeasure  at  being  so  watched ;  but  when  the  elder  lady 
went  up  to  her  and  said,  gently : 

"Pauline,  you  are  surely  either  ill  or  unhappy?" 

"I  am  neither — I  am  only  thinking,"  she  returned,  impa- 
tiently. 

"Then  your  thoughts  must  be  very  unpleasant  ones — tell 
them  to  me.  Nothing  sends  away  unpleasant  ideas  so  soon  as 
communicating  them  to  others." 

But  Miss  Darrell  had  evidently  not  heard  the  words ;  she  had 
relapsed  into  deep  meditation,  and  Miss  Hastings  thought  it 
better  to  leave  her  alone.  Suddenly  Pauline  looked  up. 

' '  Miss  Hastings, "  she  said,  ' '  I  suppose  a  solemn  promise, 
solemnly  given,  can  never  be  broken  ?" 

"It  never  should  be  broken/'  replied  the  governess.  "In- 
stances have  been  known  where  people  have  preferred  death  to 
breaking  such  a  promise." 

"Yes,  such  deaths  have  been  known.  I  should  imagine," 
commented  Pauline,  with  a  gleam  of  light  on  her  face,  ' '  that 
no  Darrell  ever  broke  his  or  her  word  when  it  had  been  solemn- 
ly given. " 

' '  I  should  imagine  not, "  said  Miss  Hastings. 

But  she  had  no  clew  to  her  pupil's  musings  or  to  the  reason 
of  her  question. 


158  MYSTERIOUS  ROBBERY. 

So  the  noon-day  shadows  crept  on.  Purple-winged  butter- 
flies coquetted  with  the  flowers,  resting  on  the  golden  breasts  of 
the  white  lilies,  and  on  the  crimson  leaves  of  the  rose ;  busy 
bees  murmured  over  the  rich  clove  carnations ;  the  birds  sang 
sweet,  jubilant  songs,  and  a  gentle  breeze  stirred  faintly  the 
leaves  on  the  trees.  For  once  Pauline  Darrell  seemed  blind  to 
the  warm,  sweet  summer  beauty ;  it  lay  unheeded  before  her. 

Miss  Hastings  saw  Sir  Oswald  coming  toward  them ;  a  mur- 
mur of  surprise  came  from  her  lips. 

"Pauline,"  she  said,  "look  at  Sir  Oswald — how  ill  he  seems. 
I  am  afraid  something  is  wrong. " 

He  drew  near  to  them,  evidently  deeply  agitated. 

' ' I  am  glad  to  find  you  here,  Miss  Hastings, "  he  jsaid ;  "I 
am  in  trouble.  Nay,  Pauline,  do  not  go ;  my  troubles  should 
be  yours. " 

For  the  girl  had  risen  with  an  air  of  proud  weariness,  intend- 
ing to  leave  them  together.  At  his  words — t.he  kindest  he  had 
spoken  to  her  for  some  time — she  took  her  seat  again ;  but  the 
haughty,  listless  manner  did  not  change. 

"I  am  nearly  sixty  years  of  age,"  said  Sir  Oswald,  "and 
this  is  the  first  time  such  a  trouble  has  come  to  me.  Miss 
Hastings,  do  you  remember  that  conversation  of  ours  last  night, 
over  that  roll  of  notes  in  the  ebony  box  ?" 

"I  remember  it  perfectly,  Sir  Oswald." 

"I  went  this  morning  to  take  them 'from  the  box,  to  take 
their  numbers  and  send  them  to  the  bank,  and  I  could  not  find 
them — they  were  gone. " 


MYSTERIOUS  ROBBERY.  i59 

"Gone !"  repeated  Miss  Hastings.  "  It  is  impossible !  You 
must  be  mistaken ;  you  must  have  overlooked  them.  What 
did  they  amount  to  ?" 

"Exactly  one  thousand  pounds/'  he  replied.  "I  cannot 
understand  it.  You  saw  me  replace  the  notes  in  the  box  ?" 

"I  did;  I  watched  you.  You  placed  them  in  one  corner. 
I  could  put  my  finger  on  the  place, "  said  Miss  Hastings. 

' '  I  locked  the  box  and  carried  it  with  my  own  hands  to  my 
study.  I  placed  it  in  the  drawer  of  my  writing-table,  and  locked 
that.  I  never  parted  with  my  keys  to  any  one ;  as  is  my  invari- 
able rule,  I  placed  them  under  my  pillow.  I  slept  soundly  all 
night,  and  when  I  woke  I  found  them  there.  As  I  tell  you  I 
have  been  to  the  box,  and  the  notes  are  gone.  I  cannot  under- 
stand it,  for  I  do  not  see  any  indication  of  a  theft,  and  yet  I 
have  been  robbed." 

Miss  Hastings  looked  very  thoughtful. 

"You  have  certainly  been  robbed,"  she  said.  "Are  you 
sure  the  keys  have  never  left  your  possession  ?" 

' '  Never  for  one  single  moment, "  he  replied. 

' '  Has  any  one  in  the  house  duplicate  keys  ?"  she  asked. 

' '  No.  I  bought  the  box  years  ago  in  Venice ;  it  has  a  pecu- 
liar lock — there  is  not  one  in  England  like  it. " 

"It  is  very  strange,"  said  Miss  Hastings.  "A  thousand 
pounds  is  no  trifle  to  lose. " 

Pauline  Darrell,  her  face  turned  to  the  flowers,  uttered  no 
word. 


160  MYSTERIOUS  ROBBERY. 

"You  might  show  some  little  interest,  Pauline,"  said  her 
uncle,  sharply;  "you  might  have  the  grace  to  affect  it,  even  if 
you  do  not  feel  it " 

"I  am  very  sorry  indeed,"  she  returned,  coldly.  "I  am 
grieved  that  you  have  had  such  a  loss. " 

Sir  Oswald  looked  pacified. 

"It  is  not  so  much  the  actual  loss  of  the  money  that  has 
grieved  me,"  he  said;  " I  shall  not  feel  it.  But  I  am  distressed 
to  think  that  there  should  be  a  thief  among  the  people  I  have 
loved  and  trusted. " 

"What  a  solemn  council!"  interrupted  the  cheery  voice  of 
Aubrey  Langton.  "What  gloomy  conspirators  !" 

Sir  Oswald  looked  up  with  an  air  of  great  relief. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  are  come,  Aubrey;  you  can  advise  me 
what  to  do. " 

And  the  baronet  told  the  story  of  his  loss. 

Captain  Langton  was  shocked,  amazed ;  he  asked  a  hundred 
questions,  and  then  suggested  that  they  should  drive  over  to 
Audleigh  Royal  and  place  the  affair  in  the  hands  of  the  chief 
inspector  of  police. 

"You  said  you  had  not  taken  the  numbers  of  the  notes;  I 
fear  it  will  be  difficult  to  trace  them,"  he  said,  regretfully. 
"What  a  strange,  mysterious  robbery?  Is  there  any  one  you 
suspect,  Sir  Oswald  ?" 

No ;  in  all  the  wide  world  there  was  not  one  that  the  loyal 
old  man  suspected  of  robbing  him. 


MYSTERIOUS  ROBBERY.  161 

"My  servants  have  always  been  to  me  like  faithful  old 
friends/'  he  said,  sadly;  "there  is  not  one  among  them  who 
would  hold  out  his  hand  to  steal  from  me." 

Captain  Langton  suggested  that,  before  going  to  Audleigh 
Royal,  they  should  search  the  library. 

"You  may  have  made  some  mistake,  sir,"  he  said.  "You 
were  tired  last  night,  and  it  is  just  possible  that  you  may  have 
put  the  money  somewhere  else,  and  do  not  remember  it." 

"We  will  go  at  once,"  decided  Sir  Oswald. 

Miss  Hastings  wished  them  success;  but  the  proud  face 
directed  toward  the  flowers  was  never  turned  to  them.  The 
pale  lips  were  never  unclosed  to  utter  one  word. 

After  the  gentlemen  had  left  them,  when  Miss  Hastings  be- 
gan to  speak  eagerly  of  the  loss,  Pauline  raised  her  hand  with  a 
proud  gesture. 

"I  have  heard  enough,"  she  said.  "I  do  not  wish  to  hear 
one  word  more. " 

The  robbery  created  a  great  sensation ;  inspectors  came  from 
Audleigh  Royal,  and  a  detective  from  Scotland  Yard,  but  no 
one  could  throw  the  least  light  upon  the  subject.  The  notes 
could  not  be  traced;  they  had  been  paid  in  from  different 
sources,  and  no  one  had  kept  a  list  of  the  numbers. 

Even  the  detective  seemed  puzzled.  Sir  Oswald  had  locked 
up  the  notes  in  the  box  at  night,  he  had  kept  the  keys  in  his 
own  possession,  and  he  had  found  in  the  morning  that  the  box 
was  still  locked  and  the  notes  were  gone.  It  was  a  nine  days' 
wonder.  Captain  Langton  gave  all  the  help  he  could,  but  as  all 


162  MYSTERIOUS  ROBBERY. 

search  seemed  useless  and  hopeless,  it  was  abandoned  after  a 
time,  and  at  the  end  of  the  week  Captain  Langton  was  sum- 
moned to  London,  and  all  hope  of  solving  the  mystery  was  re- 
linquished. 


FULFILLING  THE  CONTRACT.  163 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

FULFILLING     THE     CONTRACT. 

The  preparations  for  the  wedding  went  on  with  great  activity  ; 
the  rooms  prepared  for  the  bride  were  a  marvel  of  luxury  and 
beauty.  There  was  a  boudoir  with  rose-silk  and  white-lace 
hangings,  adorned  with  most  exquisite  pictures  and  statues, 
with  rarest  flowers  and  most  beautiful  ornaments — a  little  fairy 
nook,  over  which  every  one  went  into  raptures  except  Pauline  ; 
she  never  even  looked  at  the  alterations,  she  never  mentioned 
them  nor  showed  the  least  interest  in  them.  She  went  on  in 
her  cold,  proud,  self-contained  manner,  hiding  many  thoughts 
in  her  heart. 

"Miss  Hastings,"  she  said,  one  morning,  "you  can  do  me  a 
favor.  Sir  Oswald  has  been  saying  that  we  must  call  at  the 
Elms  to  see  Lady  Hampton  and  Miss  Rocheford.  I  should  re- 
fuse, but  that  the  request  exactly  suits  my  plans.  I  wish  to  see 
Miss  Rocheford ;  we  will  drive  over  this  afternoon.  Will  you 
engage  Lady  Hampton  in  conversation  while  I  talk  to  her 
niece  ?" 

"I  will  do  anything  you  wish,  Pauline,"  returned  Miss  Hast- 


1 64  FULFILLING  THE  CONTRACT. 

ings;  "but,  my  dear  child,  be  prudent.  I  am  frightened  for 
you — be  prudent.  It  will  be  worse  than  useless  for  you  to 
make  an  enemy  of  the  future  Lady  Darrell.  I  would  do  any- 
thing to  help  you,  anything  to  shield  you  from  sorrow  or  harm, 
but  I  am  frightened  on  your  account. " 

Caresses  and  demonstrations  of  affection  were  very  rare  with 
Pauline ;  but  now  she  bent  down  with  a  softened  face  and  kissed 
the  anxious  brow. 

"You  are  very  good  to  me,"  she  said.  "You  are  the  only 
one  in  the  wide  world  who  cares  for  me. " 

And  with  the  words  there  came  to  her  such  a  sense  of  loneli- 
ness and  desolation  as  no  language  could  describe.  Of  what 
use  had  been  her  beauty,  of  which  her  poor  father  had  been  so 
proud — of  what  avail  the  genius  with  which  she  was  so  richly 
dowered  ? 

No  one  loved  her.  The  only  creature  living  who  seemed  to 
enter  into  either  her  joys  or  her  sorrows  was  the  kind-hearted, 
gentle  governess. 

"You  must  let  me  have  my  own  way  this  time,  Miss  Hast- 
ings. One  peculiarity  of  the  Darrells  is  that  they  must  say 
what  is  on  their  minds.  I  intend  to  do  so  now ;  it  rests  with 
you  whether  I  do  it  in  peace  or  not." 

After  that  Miss  Hastings  knew  all  further  remonstrance  was 
useless.  She  made  such  arrangements  as  Pauline  wished,  and 
that  afternoon  they  drove  over  to  the  Elms.  Lady  Hampton 
received  them  very  kindly ;  the  great  end  and  aim  of  her  life 
was  accomplished — her  niece  was  to  be  Lady  Darrell,  of  Darrell 


FULFILLING  THE  CONTRACT.  165 

Court.  There  was  no  need  for  any  more  envy  or  jealousy  of 
Pauline.  The  girl  who  had  so  lately  been  a  dangerous  rival 
and  an  enemy  to  be  dreaded  had  suddenly  sunk  into  complete 
insignificance.  Lady  Hampton  even  thought  it  better  to  be 
gracious,  conciliatory,  and  kind;  as  Elinor  had  to  live  with 
Miss  Darrell,  it  was  useless  to  make  things  disagreeable. 

So  Lady  Hampton  received  them  kindly.  Fruit  from  the 
Court  hothouses  and  flowers  from  the  Court  conservatories  were 
on  the  table.  Lady  Hampton  insisted  that  Miss  Hastings 
should  join  her  in  her  afternoon  tea,  while  Pauline,  speaking 
with  haughty  grace,  expressed  a  desire  to  see  the  Elms  garden. 

Lady  Hampton  was  not  sorry  to  have  an  hour's  gossip  with 
Miss  Hastings,  and  she  desired  Elinor  to  show  Miss  Darrell  all 
their  choicest  flowers. 

Elinor  looked  half-frightened  at  the  task.  It  was  wonderful 
to  see  the  contrast  that  the  two  girls  presented — Pauline  tall, 
slender,  queenly,  in  her  sweeping  black  dress,  all  passion  and 
magnificence ;  Miss  Rocheford,  fair,  dainty,  golden-haired,  and 
gentle. 

They  walked  in  silence  down  one  of  the  garden-paths,  and 
then  Miss  Rocheford  said,  in  her  low,  sweet  voice  : 

"If  you  like  roses,  Miss  Darrell,  I  can  show  you  a  beautiful 
collection. " 

Then  for  the  first  time  Pauline's  dark  eyes  were  directed  to- 
ward her  companion's  face. 

' '  I  am  a  bad  dissembler,  Miss  Rocheford, "  she  said,  proudly. 
"I  have  no  wish  to  see  your  flowers.  I  came  here  to  see  you. 


1 66        -     FULFILLING  THE  CONTRACT. 

There  is  a  seat  under  yonder  tree.  Come  with  me,  and  hear 
what  I  have  to  say. " 

Elinor  followed,  looking  and  feeling  terribly  frightened. 
What  had  this  grand,  imperious  Miss  Darrell  to  say  to  her? 
They  sat  down  side  by  side  under  the  shade  of  a  large  magnolia 
tree,  the  white  blossoms  of  which  filled  the  air  with  sweetest 
perfume ;  the  smiling  summer  beauty  rested  on  the  landscape. 
They  sat  in  silence  for  some  minutes,  and  then  Pauline  turned 
to  Elinor. 

"Miss  Rocheford,"  she  said,  "I  am  come  to  give  you  a 
warning — the  most  solemn  warning  you  have  ever  received — 
one  that  if  you  have  any  common  sense  you  will  not  refuse  to 
heed.  I  hear  that  you  are  going  to  marry  my  uncle,  Sir  Os- 
wald. Is  it  true  ?" 

"Sir  Oswald  has  asked  me  to  be  his  wife/'  Elinor  replied, 
with  downcast  eyes  and  a  faint  blush. 

Pauline's  face  gleamed  with  scorn. 

"There  is  no  need  for  any  of  those  pretty  airs  and  graces 
with  me,"  she  said.  "I  am  going  to  speak  stern  truths  to  you. 
You,  a  young  girl,  barely  twenty,  with  all  your  life  before  you — 
surely  you  cannot  be  so  shamelessly  untrue  as  even  to  pretend 
that  you  are  marrying  an  old  man  like  my  uncle  for  love  ?  You 
know  it  is  not  so — you  dare  not  even  pretend  it. " 

Elinor's  face  flushed  crimson. 

"Why  do  you  speak  so  to  me,  Miss  Darrell?"  she  gasped. 

"Because  I  want  to  warn  you.     Are  you  not  ashamed — yes, 


FULFILLING  THE  CONTRACT.  167 

I  repeat  the  word,  ashamed — to  sell  your  youth,  your  hope  of 
love,  your  life  itself,  for  money  and  title?  That  is  what  you  are 
doing.  You  do  not  love  Sir  Oswald.  How  should  you  ?  He 
is  more  than  old  enough  to  be  your  father.  If  he  were  a  poor 
man,  you  would  laugh  his  offer  to  scorn ;  but  he  is  old  and 
rich,  and  you  are  willing  to  marry  him,  to  become  Lady  Darrell, 
of  Darrell  Court.  Can  you,  Elinor  Rocheford,  look  me  frankly 
in  the  face,  and  say  it  is  not  so  ?" 

No,  she  could  not.  Every  word  fell  like  a  sledge-hammer  on 
her  heart,  and  she  knew  it  was  all  true.  She  bent  her  crimson 
face,  and  hid  it  from  Pauline's  clear  gaze. 

"Are  you  not  ashamed  to  sell  yourself?  If  no  truth,  no 
honor,  no  loyalty  impels  you  to  end  this  barter,  let  fear  step  in. 
You  do  not  love  my  uncle.  It  can  give  you  no  pain  to  give 
him  up.  Pursue  your  present  course,  and  I  warn  you.  Dar- 
rell Court  ought  to  be  mine.  I  am  a  Darrell,  and  when  my 
uncle  took  me  home  it  was  as  his  heiress.  For  a  long  period  1 
have  learned  to  consider  Darrell  Court  as  mine.  It  is  mine, " 
she  continued — "mine  by  right,  for  I  am  a  Darrell — mine  by 
right  of  the  great  love  I  bear  it — mine  by  every  law  that  is  just 
and  right!  Elinor  Rocheford,  I  warn  you,  beware  how  you 
step  in  between  me  and  my  birthright — beware  !  My  uncle  is 
only  marrying  you  to  punish  me;  he  has  no  other  motive. 
Beware  how  you  lend  yourself  to  such  punishment !  I  am  not 
asking  you  to  give  up  any  love.  If  you  loved  him,  I  would  not 
say  one  word ;  but  it  is  not  a  matter  of  love — only  of  sale  and 
barter.  Give  it  up!" 


1 68  FULFILLING  THE  CONTRACT. 

"How  can  you  talk  so  strangely  to  me,  Miss  Darrell?  I 
cannot  give  it  up ;  everything  is  arranged. " 

"You  can  if  you  will.  Tell  my  uncle  you  repent  of  the  un- 
natural compact  you  have  made.  Be  a  true  woman — true  to 
the  instinct  Heaven  has  placed  in  your  heart.  Marry  for  love, 
nothing  else — pure,  honest  love — and  then  you  will  live  and  die 
happy.  Answer  me — will  you  give  it  up  ?" 

"I  cannot,"  murmured  the  girl. 

"You  will  not,  rather.  Listen  to  me.  I  am  a  true  Darrell, 
and  a  Darrell  never  breaks  a  word  once  pledged.  If  you  marry 
my  uncle,  I  pledge  my  word  that  I  will  take  a  terrible  venge- 
ance on  you — not  a  commonplace  one,  but  one  that  shall  be 
terrible.  I  will  be  revenged  upon  you  if  you  dare  to  step  in  be- 
tween me  and  my  just  inheritance  !  Do  you  hear  me  ?" 

"I  hear.  You  are  very  cruel,  Miss  Darrell.  You  know  that 
I  cannot  help  myself.  I  must  fulfill  my  contract. " 

"Very  well,"  said  Pauline,  rising;  "then  I  have  no  more  to 
say.  But  remember,  I  have  given  you  full,  fair,  honest  warning. 
I  will  be  revenged  upon  you. " 

And  Miss  Darrell  returned  to  the  house,  with  haughty  head 
proudly  raised,  while  Elinor  remained  in  the  garden,  bewildered 
and  aghast. 

Two  things  happened.  Elinor  never  revealed  a  word  of  what 
had  transpired,  and  three  weeks  from  that  day  Sir  Oswald  Dar- 
rell married  her  in  the  old  parish  church  of  Audleigh  Royal. 


NO  COMPROMISE  WITH  PAULINE.          169 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

NO    COMPROMISE    WITH    PAULINE. 

It  was  evident  to  Miss  Hastings  that  "Sir  Oswald  felt  some  lit- 
tle trepidation  in  bringing  his  bride  home.  He  had,  in  spite  of 
himself,  been  somewhat  impressed  by  his  niece's  behavior.  She 
gave  no  sign  of  disappointed  greed  or  ambition,  but  she  bore 
herself  like  one  who  has  been  unjustly  deprived  of  her  rights. 

On  the  night  of  the  arrival  every  possible  preparation  had 
been  made  for  receiving  the  baronet  and  his  wife.  The  ser- 
vants, under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Frampton,  the  butler,  were 
drawn  up  in  stately  array.  The  bells  from  the  old  Norman 
church  of  Audleigh  Royal  pealed  out  a  triumphant  welcome  ; 
flags  and  triumphal  arches  adorned  the  roadway.  The  Court 
was  looking  its  brightest  and  best ;  the  grand  old  service  of 
golden  plate,  from  which  in  olden  times,  kings  and  queens  had 
dined,  was  displayed.  The  rooms  were  made  bright  with  flow- 
ers and  warm  with  fires.  It  was  a  proud  coming  home  for  Lady 
Darrell,  who  had  never  known  what  a  home  was  before.  Her 
delicate  face  flushed  as  her  eyes  lingered  on  the  splendor  around 
her.  She  could  not  repress  the  slight  feeling  of  triumph  which 


i yo          NO  COMPROMISE  WITH  PAULINE. 

made  her  heart  beat  and  her  pulse  thrill  as  she  remembered 
that  this  was  all  her  own. 

She  bowed  right  and  left,  with  the  calm,  suave  smile  that 
never  deserted  her.  As  she  passed  through  the  long  file  of  ser- 
vants she  tried  her  best  to  be  most  gracious  and  winning ;  but, 
despite  her  delicate,  grave,  and  youthful  loveliness,  they  looked 
from  her  to  the  tall,  queenly  girl  whose  proud  head  was  never 
bent,  and  whose  dark  eyes  had  in  them  no  light  of  welcome. 
It  might  be  better  to  bow  to  the  rising  sun,  but  many  of  them 
preferred  the  sun  that  was  setting. 

Sir  Oswald  led  his  young  wife  proudly  through  the  outer 
rooms  into  the  drawing-room. 

11  Welcome  home,  my  dear  Elinor!"  he  said.  "May  every 
moment  you  spend  in  Darrell  Court  be  full 'of  happiness  !" 

She  thanked  him.  Pauline  stood  by,  not  looking  at  them. 
After  the  first  careless  glance  at  Lady  Darrell,  which  seemed  to 
take  in  every  detail  of  her  costume,  and  to  read  every  thought 
of  her  mind,  she  turned  carelessly  away. 

Lady  Darrell  sat  down  near  the  fire,  while  Sir  Oswald,  with 
tender  solicitude,  took  off  her  traveling-cloak,  his  hands  trem- 
bling with  eagerness. 

' '  You  will  like  to  rest  for  a  few  minutes  before  you  go  to 
your  rooms,  Elinor, "  he  said. 

Then  Miss  Hastings  went  up  to  them,  and  some  general  con- 
versation about  traveling  ensued.  That  seemed  to  break  the 
ice.  Lady  Darrell  related  one  or  two  little  incidents  of  their 
journey,  and  then  Sir  Oswald  suggested  that  she  should  go  to 


NO  COMPROMISE  WITH  PAULINE.          171 

her  apartments,  as  the  dinner-bell  would  ring  in  half  an  hour. 
Lady  Darrell  went  away,  and  Sir  Oswald  soon  afterward  fol- 
lowed. 

Pauline  had  turned  to  one  of  the  large  stands  of  flowers,  and 
was  busily  engaged  in  taking  the  dying  leaves  from  a  beautiful 
plant  bearing  gorgeous  crimson  flowers. 

" Pauline/'  said  the  governess,  "my  dear  child  I" 

She  was  startled.  She  expected  to  find  the  girl  looking 
sullen,  angry,  passionate ;  but  the  splendid  face  was  only  lighted 
by  a  gleam  of  intense  scorn,  the  dark  eyes  flashing  fire,  the  ruby 
lips  curling  and  quivering  with  disdain.  Pauline  threw  back 
her  head  with  the  old  significant  movement. 

1  'Miss  Hastings,"  she  said,  "I  would  not  have  sold  myself 
as  that  girl  has  done  for  all  the  money  and  the  highest  rank  in 
England. " 

"My  dear  Pauline,  you  must  not,  really,  speak  in  that 
fashion.  Lady  Darrell  undoubtedly  loves  her  husband. " 

The  look  of  scorn  deepened. 

"You  know  she  does  not.  She  is  just  twenty,  and  he  is 
nearly  sixty.  What  love — what  sympathy  can  there  be  between 
them?" 

"It  is  not  really  our  business,  my  dear;  we  will  not  discuss 
it." 

"Certainly  not;  but  as  you  are  always  so  hard  upon  what 
you  call  my  world — the  Bohemian  world-,  where  men  and 
women  speak  the  truth — it  amuses  me  to  find  flaws  in  yours. " 

Miss  Hastings  looked  troubled ;   but  she  knew  it  was  better 


1 72          NO  COMPROMISE  WITH  PA  ULINE. 

for  the  passionate  torrent  of  words  to  be  poured  out  to  her. 
Pauline  looked  at  her  with  that  straight,  clear,  open,  honest 
look  before  which  all  affectation  fell. 

"You  tell  me,  Miss  Hastings,  that  I  am  deficient  in  good- 
breeding — that  I  cannot  take  my  proper  place  in  your  wprld  be- 
cause I  do  not  conform  to  its  ways  and  its  maxims.  You  have 
proposed  this  lady  to  me  as  a  model,  and  you  would  fain  see 
me  regulate  all  my  thoughts  and  words  by  her.  I  would  rather 
die  than  be  like  her!  She  may  be  thoroughly  lady-like — I 
grant  that  she  is  so — but  she  has  sold  her  youth,  her  beauty, 
her  love,  her  life,  for  an  old  man's  money  and  title.  I,  with  all 
my  brusquerie,  as  you  call  it,  would  have  scorned  such  sale  and 
barter. " 

"But,  Pauline •''  remonstrated  Miss  Hastings. 

"It  is  an  unpleasant  truth,"  interrupted  Pauline,  "and  you 
do  not  like  to  hear  it.  Sir  Oswald  is  Baron  of  Audleigh  Royal 
and  master  of  Darrell  Court ;  but  if  a  duke,  thirty  years  older, 
had  made  this  girl  an  offer,  she  would  have  accepted  him,  and 
have  given  up  Sir  Oswald.  What  a  world,  where  woman's  truth 
is  so  bidden  for?" 

"My  dear  Pauline,  you  must  not,  indeed,  say  these  things; 
they  are  most  unlady-like." 

"I  begin  to  think  that  all  truth  is  unlady-like,"  returned  the 
girl,  with  a  laugh.  "My  favorite  virtue  does  not  wear  court 
dress  very  becomingly. " 

"I  have  never  heard  that  it  affects  russet  gowns  either,"  said 
Miss  Hastings.  "Oh,  Pauline,  if  you  would  but  understand 


NO  COMPROMISE  WITH  PAULINE.          173 

social  politeness,  social  duties  !  If  you  would  but  keep  your 
terrible  ideas  to  yourself!  If  you  would  but  remember  that 
the  outward  bearing  of  life  must  be  as  a  bright,  shining,  undis- 
turbed surface  !  Do  try  to  be  more  amiable  to  Lady  Darrell  1" 

"No!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  proudly.  "I  have  warned  her, 
and  she  has  chosen  to  disregard  my  warning.  I  shall  never  as- 
sume any  false  appearance  of  amiability  or  friendship  for  her  ; 
it  will  be  war  to  the  knife  1  I  told  her  so,  and  she  chose  to  dis- 
believe me.  I  am  a  Darrell,  and  the  Darrells  never  break  their 
word/' 

Looking  at  her,  the  unstudied  grace  of  her  attitude,  th'e  per- 
fect pose,  the  grand  face  with  its  royal  look  of  scorn,  Miss  Hast- 
ings felt  that  she  would  rather  have  the  girl  for  a  friend  than  an 
enemy. 

"I  do  hope,  for  your  own  sake,  Pauline/'  she  said,  "that 
you  will  show  every  respect  to  Lady  Darrell.  All  your  comfort 
will  depend  upon  it.  You  must  really  compromise  matters." 

"Compromise  matters!"  cried  Pauline.  "You  had  better 
tell  the  sea  to  compromise  with  the  winds  which  have  lashed  it 
into  fury.  There  can  be  no  compromise  with  me." 

The  words  had  scarcely  issued  from  her  lips  when  the  dinner- 
bell  sounded,  and  Lady  Darrell  entered  in  a  beautiful  evening 
dress  of  white  and  silver.  Certainly  Sir  Oswald's  choice  did 
him  great  credit.  She  was  one  of  the  most  delicate,  the  most 
graceful  of  women,  fair,  caressing,  insinuating — one  of  those 
women  who  would  never  dream  of  uttering  barbarous  truth 
when  elegant  fiction  so  much  better  served  their  purpose — who 


I74          NO  COMPROMISE  WITH  PAULINE. 

loved  fine  clothes,  sweet  perfumes,  costly  jewels — who  preferred 
their  own  comfort  in  a  graceful,  languid  way  to  anything  else  on 
earth — who  expected  to  be  waited  upon  and  to  receive  all 
homage — who  deferred  to  men  with  a  graceful,  sweet  submission 
that  made  them  feel  the  deference  a  compliment — who  placed 
entire  reliance  upon  others — whom  men  felt  a  secret  delight  in 
ministering  to,  because  they  appeared  so  weak — one  of  those 
who  moved  cautiously  and  graciously  with  subtle  harmonious 
action,  whose  hands  were  always  soft  and  jeweled,  whose  touch 
was  light  and  gentle — a  woman  born  to  find  her  place  in  the  lap 
of  luxury,  who  shuddered  at  poverty  or  care. 

Such  was  Elinor  Darrell ;  and  she  entered  the  drawing-room 
now  with  that  soft,  gliding  movement  that  seemed  always  to  irri- 
tate Pauline.  She  drew  a  costly  white  lace  shawl  over  her  fair 
shoulders — the  rich  dress  of  silver  and  white  was  studded  with 
pearls.  She  looked  like  a  fairy  vision. 

"I  think,"  she  said  to  Miss  Hastings,  in  her  quiet,  calm  way, 
"that  the  evening  is  cold." 

"You  have  just  left  a  warm  country,  Lady  Darrell,"  was  the 
gentle  reply.  ' '  The  South  of  France  is  blessed  with  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  climates  in  the  world. " 

"It  was  very  pleasant,"  said  Lady  Darrell,  with  a  dreamy  little 
sigh.  "You  have  been  very  quiet,  I  suppose?  We  must  try 
to  create  a  little  more  gayety  for  you. " 

She  looked  anxiously  across  the  room  at  Pauline ;  but  that 
young  lady's  attention  was  entirely  engrossed  by  the  crimson 
flowers  of  the  beautiful  plant.  Not  one  line  of  the  superb 


NO  COMPROMISE  WITH  PAULINE.          175 

figure,  not  one  expression  of  the  proud  face,  was  lost  upon  Lady 
Darrell. 

"I  have  been  saying  to  Sir  Oswald,"  she  continued,  looking 
intently  at  the  costly  rings  shining  on  her  ringers,  ' '  that  youth 
likes  gayety — we  must  have  a  series  of  parties  and  balls. " 

"Is  she  beginning  to  patronize  me?"  thought  Pauline. 

She  smiled  to  herself— a  peculiar  smile  which  Lady  Darrell 
happened  to  catch,  and  which  made  her  feel  very  uncomfort- 
able ;  and  then  an  awkward  silence  fell  over  them,  only  broken 
by  the  entrance  of  Sir  Oswald,  and  the  announcement  that 
dinner  was  served. 


I76  A  RICH  GIFT  DECLINED. 


.CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A     RICH     GIFT     DECLINED. 

The  bride's  first  dinner  at  home  was  over,  and  had  been  a 
great  success.  Lady  Darrell  had  not  evinced  the  least  emotion ; 
she  had  married  for  her  present  social  position — for  a  fine  house, 
troops  of  servants,  beautiful,  warm,  fragrant  rooms,  choice 
wines,  and  luxurious  living ;  it  was  only  part  and  parcel  of  what 
she  expected,  and  intended  to  have.  She  took  the  chair  of  state 
provided  for  her,  and  by  the  perfect  ease  and  grace  of  her  man- 
ner proved  that  she  was  well  fitted  for  it. 

Sir  Oswald  watched  her  with  keen  delight,  only  regretting 
that  years  ago  he  had  not  taken  unto  himself  a  wife.  He  was 
most  courtly,  most  deferential,  most  attractive.  If  Lady  Dar- 
rell did  occasionally  feel  weary,  and  the  memory  of  Aubrey 
Langton's  face  rose  between  her  and  her  husband,  she  made  no 
sign. 

When  the  three  ladies  withdrew,  she  made  no  further  efforts 
to  conciliate  Pauline.  She  looked  at  her,  but  seemed  almost 
afraid  to  speak.  Then  she  opened  a  conversation  with  Miss 
Hastings,  and  the  two  persevered  in  their  amiable  small  talk 


A  RICH  GIFT  DECLINED.  i77 

until  Pauline  rose  and  went  to  the  piano,  the  scornful  glance  on 
her  face  deepening. 

"This  is  making  one's  self  amiable!"  she  thought.  "What 
a  blessing  it  would  be  if  people  would  speak  only  when  they  had 
something  sensible  to  say !" 

She  sat  down  before  the  piano,  but  suddenly  remembered  that 
she  had  not  been  asked  to  do  so,  and  that  she  was  no  longer 
mistress  of  the  house — a  reflection  sufficiently  galling  to  make 
her  rise  quickly,  and  go  to  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

"Pauline/'  said  Lady  Darrell,  "pray  sing  for  us.  Miss 
Hastings  tells  me  you  have  a  magnificent  voice. " 

"Have  I?  Miss  Hastings  is  not  so  complimentary  when  she 
speaks  to  me  alone. " 

Then  a  sudden  ^resolution  came  to  Lady  Darrell.  She  rose 
from  her  seat,  and,  with  the  rich  robe  of  silver  and  white  sweep- 
ing around  her,  she  went  to  the  end  of  the  room  where  Pauline 
was  standing,  tall,  stately,  and  statuesque,  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  a  book.  The  contrast  between  the  two  girls — the 
delicate  beauty  of  the  one,  and  the  grand  loveliness  of  the 
other — was  never  more  strongly  marked. 

Lady  Darrell  laid  her  white  hand,  shining  with  jewels,  on 
Pauline's  arm.  She  looked  up  into  her  proud  face. 

"Pauline,'  she  said,  gently,  "will  you  not  be  friends?  We 
have  to  live  together — will  you  be  friends?" 

"No!"  replied  Miss  Darrell,  in  her  clear, -frank  voice.  "I 
gave  you  warning.  You  paid  no  heed  to  it.  We  shall  never 
be  friends." 


iy8  A  RICH  GIFT  DECLINED. 

A  faint  smile  played  round  Lady  DarreH's  lips. 

"But,  Pauline,  do  you  not  see  how  useless  all  your  resent- 
ment against  me  is  now?  My  marriage  with  Sir  Oswald  has 
taken  place,  and  you  and  I  shall  have  to  live  together  perhaps 
for  many  years — it  would  be  so  much  better  for  us  to  live  in 
peace. " 

The  proud  face  wore  its  haughtiest  look. 

"It  would  be  better  for  you,  perhaps,  Lady  Darrell,  but  it 
can  make  no  difference  to  me. " 

"It  can,  indeed.  Now  listen  to  reason — listen  to  me  I"  and 
in  her  eagerness  Lady  Darrell  once  more  laid  her  hand  on  the 
girl's  arm.  Her  face  flushed  as  Pauline  drew  back,  with  a  look 
of  aversion,  letting  the  jeweled  hand  fall.  "Listen,  Pauline!" 
persevered  Lady  Darrell.  "You  know  all  this  is  nonsense — 
sheer  nonsense.  My  position  now  is  established.  You  can  do 
nothing  to  hurt  me — Sir  Oswald  will  take  good  care  of  that 
Any  attempt  that  you  may  make  to  injure  me  will  fall  upon 
yourself;  besides,  you  know  you  can  do  nothing."  In  spite  of 
her  words,  Lady  Darrell  looked  half-fearfully  at  the  girl's  proud, 
defiant  face.  "You  may  have  all  kinds  of  tragic  plans  for 
vengeance  in  your  mind,  but  there  are  no  secrets  in  my  life  that 
you  can  find  out  to  my  discredit — indeed,  you  cannot  injure  me 
in  any  possible  way. "  She  seemed  so  sure  of  it,  yet  her  eyes 
sought  Pauline's  with  an  anxious,  questioning  fear.  ' '  Now,  I, 
on  the  contrary/'  she  went  on,  "can  do  much  for  you — and  I 
will.  You  are  young,  and  naturally  wish  to  enjoy  your  life. 
You  shall.  You  shall  have  balls  and  parties,  dresses — every- 


A  RICH  GIFT  DECLINED.  179 

thing  that  you  can  wish  for,  if  you  will  only  be  friends  with 
me." 

She  might  as  well  have  thrown  drops  of  oil  on  an  angry  ocean 
to  moderate  its  wrath. 

"Lady  Darrell,"  was  the  sole  reply,  "you  are  only  wasting 
your  time  and  mine.  I  warned  you.  Twenty  years  may  elapse 
before  my  vengeance  arrives,  but  it  will  come  at  last." 

She  walked  away,  leaving  the  brilliant  figure  of  the  young 
bride  alone  in  the  bright  lamp-light.  She  did  not  leave  the 
room,  for  Sir  Oswald  entered  at  the  moment,  carrying  a  small, 
square  parcel  in  his  hand.  He  smiled  as  he  came  in. 

"How  pleasant  it  is  to  see  so  many  fair  faces!"  he  said. 
"Why,  my  home  has  indeed  been  dark  until  now." 

He  went  up  to  Lady  Darrell,  as  she  stood  alone.  All  the 
light  in  the  room  seemed  to  be  centered  on  her  golden  hair  and 
shining  dress.  He  said  : 

"I  have  brought  the  little  parcel,  Elinor,  thinking  that  you 
would  prefer  to  give  your  beautiful  present  to  Pauline  herself. 
But,"  he  continued,  "why  are  you  standing,  my  love?  You 
will  be  tired." 

She  raised  her  fair,  troubled  face  to  his,  with  a  smile. 

"Moreover,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  looking  anxious," 
he  resumed.  "Miss  Hastings,  will  you  come  here,  please?  Is 
this  an  anxious  look  on  Lady  DarreH's  face  ?" 

"I  hope  not,"  said  the  governess,  with  a  gentle  smile. 

Then  Sir  Oswald  brought  a  chair,  and  placed  his  wife  in  it ; 
he  next  obtained  a  footstool  and  a  small  table.  Lady-  Darrell, 


i8o  A  RICH  GIFT  DECLINED. 

though  half-ashamed  of  the  feeling,  could  not  help  being  thank- 
ful that  Pauline  did  not  notice  these  lover-like  attentions, 
r     "Now,  Miss  Hastings,"  spoke  Sir  Oswald,  "I  want  you  to 
admire  Lady  DarreH's  taste." 

He  opened  the  parcel.  It  contained  a  morocco  case,  the  lid 
of  which,  upon  a  spring  being  touched,  flew  back,  exposing  a 
beautiful  suite  of  rubies  set  in  pale  gold. 

Miss  Hastings  uttered  a  little  cry  of  delight. 

"How  very  beautiful !"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  responded  Sir  Oswald,  holding  them  up  to  the  light, 
"they  are,  indeed.  I  am  sure  we  must  congratulate  Lady  Dar- 
rell  upon  her  good  taste.  I  suggested  diamonds  or  pearls,  but 
she  thought  rubies  so  much  better  suited  to  Pauline's  dark 
beauty ;  and  she  is  quite  right. " 

Lady  Darrell  held  up  the  shining  rubies  with  her  white 
fingers,  but  she  did  not  smile ;  a  look  of  something  like  appre- 
hension came  over  the  fair  face. 

"I  hope  Pauline  will  like  them,"  she  said,  gently. 

"She  cannot  fail  to  do  so,"  remarked  Sir  Oswald,  with  some 
little  hauteur.  "I  will  tell  her  that  you  want  to  speak  to  her." 

He  went  over  to  the  deep  recess  of  the  large  window,  where 
Pauline  sat  reading.  He  had  felt  very  sure  that  she  would  be 
flattered  by  the  rich  and  splendid  gift.  There  had  been  some 
little  pride,  and  some  little  pomp  in  his  manner  as  he  went  in 
search  of  her,  but  it  seemed  to  die  away  as  he  looked  at  her 
face.  That  was  not  the  face  of  a  girl  who  could  be  tempted, 


A  RICH  GIFT  DECLINED.  181 

pleased,  or  coaxed  with  jewels.  Insensibly  his  manner 
changed. 

' '  Pauline, "  he  said,  gently,  ' '  Lady  Darrell  wishes  to  speak 
to  you." 

There  was  evidently  a  struggle  in  her  mind  as  to  whether  she 
should  comply  or  not,  and  then  she  rose,  and  without  a  word 
walked  up  to  the  little  group. 

"What  do  you  require,  Lady  Darrell?"  she  asked;  and  Miss 
Hastings  looked  up  at  her  with  quick  apprehension. 

The  fair  face  of  Lady  Darrell  looked  more  troubled  than 
pleased.  Sir  Oswald  stood  by,  a  little  more  stately  and  proud 
than  usual — proud  of  his  niece,  proud  of  his  wife,  and  pleased 
with  himself. 

*  'I  have  brought  you  a  little  present,  Pauline,  from  Paris," 
said  Lady  Darrell.  ' '  I  hope  it  will  give  you  pleasure. " 

"You  were  kind  to  remember  me,"  observed  Pauline. 

Sir  Oswald  thought  the  acknowledgment  far  too  cool  and 
calm. 

"They  are  the  finest  rubies  I  have  seen,  Pauline;  they  are 
superb  stones." 

He  held  them  so  that  the  light  gleamed  in  them  until  they 
shone  like  fire.  The  proud,  dark  eyes  glanced  indifferently  at 
them. 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  Lady  Darrell,  Pauline?"  asked  Sir 
Oswald,  growing  angry  at  her  silence. 

The  girl's  beautiful  lip  curled. 

"Lady  Darrell  was  good  to  think  of  me,"  she  said,  coldly; 


1 82  A  RICH  GIFT  DECLINED. 

"and  the  jewels  are  very  fine;  but  they  are  not  suitable  for 
me." 

Her  words,  simple  as  they  were,  fell  like  a  thunder-cloud 
upon  the  little  group. 

"And  pray  why  not?"  asked  Sir  Oswald,  angrily. 

"Your  knowledge  of  the  world  is  greater  than  mine,  and  will 
tell  you  better  than  I  can,"  she  replied,  calmly.  "Three 
months  since  they  would  have  been  a  suitable  present  to  one  in 
the  position  I  held  then ;  now  they  are  quite  out  of  place,  and 
I  decline  them. " 

"You  decline  them !"  exclaimed  Lady  Darrell,  hardly  believ- 
ing that  it  was  in  human  nature  to  refuse  such  jewels. 

Pauline  smiled  calmly,  repeated  the  words,  and  walked 
away. 

Sir  Oswald,  with  an  angry  murmur,  replaced  the  jewels  in 
the  case  and  set  it  aside. 

"She  has  the  Darrell  spirit,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  with  an  awk- 
ward smile ;  and  she  devoutly  hoped  that  her  husband  would 
not  often  exhibit  the  same. 


A  TRUE  DARRELL.  183 


CHAPTER  XXV.    . 

A      TRUE      DARRELL. 

The  way  in  which  the  girl  supported  her  disappointment  was 
lofty  in  the  extreme.  She  bore  her  defeat  as  proudly  as  some 
would  have  borne  a  victory.  No  one  could  have  told  from  her 
face  or  her  manner  that  she  had  suffered  a  grievous  defeat. 
When  she  alluded  to  the  change  in  her  position,  it  was  with  a 
certain  proud  humility  that  had  in  it  nothing  approaching 
meanness  or  envy. 

It  did  not  seem  that  she  felt  the  money-loss ;  it  was  not  the 
disappointment  about  mere  wealth  and  luxury.  It  was  rather 
an  unbounded  distress  that  she  had  been  set  aside  as  unworthy 
to  represent  the  race  of  the  Darrells — that  she,  a  "real"  Dar- 
rell,  had  been  forced  to  make  way  for  what,  in  her  own  mind, 
she  called  a  "baby-faced  stranger" — that  her  training  and  edu- 
cation, on  which  her  dear  father  had  prided  himself,  should  be 
cast  in  her  face  as  unworthy  and  deserving  of  reproach.  He 
and  his  artist-friends  had  thought  her  perfection;  that  very 
"perfection"  on  which  they  had  prided  themselves,  and  for 


1 84  A  TRUE  DARRELL. 

which  they  had  so  praised  and  flattered  her,  was  the  barrier  that 
had  stood  between  her  and  her  inheritance. 

It  was  a  painful  position,  but  her  manner  of  bearing  it  was 
exalted.  She  had  not  been  a  favorite — the  pride,  the  truth,  the 
independence  of  her  nature  had  forbidden  that.  She  had  not 
sought  the  liking  of  strangers,  nor  courted  their  esteem ;  she 
had  not  been  sweet  and  womanly,  weeping  with  those  who  wept, 
and  rejoicing  with  those  who  rejoiced  ;  she  had  looked  around 
her  with  a  scorn  for  conventionalities  that  had  not  sat  well  upon 
one  so  young — and  now  she  was  to  pay  the  penalties  for  all  this. 
She  knew  that  people  talked  about  her — that  they  said  she  was 
rightly  punished,  justly  treated— that  it  was  a  blessing  for  the 
whole  county  to  have  a  proper  Lady  Darrell  at  Darrell  Court. 
She  knew*that  among  all  the  crowds  who  came  to  the  Court 
there  was  not  one  who  sympathized  with  her,  or  who  cared  in 
the  least  for  her  disappointment.  No  Darrell  ever  showed 
greater  bravery  than  she  did  in  her  manner  of  bearing  up  under 
disappointment.  Whatever  she  felt  or  thought  was  most  adroit- 
ly concealed.  The  Spartan  boy  was  not  braver;  she  gave  no 
sign.  No  humiliation  seemed  to  touch  her,  she  carried  herself 
loftily;  nor  could  any  one  humiliate  her  when  she  did  not 
humiliate  herself.  Even  Sir  Oswald  admired  her. 

"She  is  a  true  Darrell,"  he  said  to  Miss  Hastings;  "what  a 
grand  spirit  the  girl  has,  to  be  sure  1" 

The  Court  was  soon  one  scene  of  gayety.  Lady  Darrell 
seemed  determined  to  enjoy  her  position.  There  were  garden- 
parties  at  which  she  appeared  radiant  in  the  most  charming 


A  TRUE  DARRELL.  185 

costumes,  balls  where  her  elegance  and  delicate  beauty,  her 
thoroughbred  grace,  made  her  the  queen ;  and  of  all  this  gayety 
she  took  the  lead.  Sir  Oswald  lavished  every  luxury  upon  her 
— her  wishes  were  gratified  almost  before  they  were  expressed. 

Lady  Hampton^  calling  rather  earlier  than  usual  one  day, 
found  her  in  her  luxurious  dressing-room,  surrounded  by  such 
treasures  of  silk,  velvet,  lace,  jewels,  ornaments  of  every  descrip- 
tion of  the  most  costly  and  valuable  kind,  that  her  ladyship 
looked  round  in  astonishment. 

' '  My  dearest  Elinor, "  she  said,  "what  are  you  doing ?  What 
beautiful  confusion  I" 

Lady  Darrell  raised  her  fair  face,  with  a  delicate  flush  and  a 
half-shy  glance. 

"Look,  aunt/'  she  said,   "I  am  really  overwhelmed." 

1 '  What  does  it  mean  ?"  asked  Lady  Hampton. 

"It  means  that  Sir  Oswald  is  too  generous.  These  large 
boxes  have  just  arrived  from  Paris ;  he  told  me  they  were  a  sur- 
prise for  me — a  present  from  him.  Look  at  the  contents — 
dresses  of  all  kinds,  lace,  ornaments,  fans,  slippers,  gloves,  and 
such  articles  of  luxury  as  can  be  bought  only  in  Paris.  I  am 
really  ashamed. " 

"Sir  Oswald  is  indeed  generous,"  said  Lady  Hampton;  then 
she  looked  round  the  room  to  see  if  they  were  quite  alone. 

The  maid  had  disappeared. 

"Ah,  Elinor,"  remarked  Lady  Hampton,  "you  are  indeed  a 
fortunate  woman;  your  lines  have  fallen  in  pleasant  places. 
You  might  have  looked  all  England  over  and  not  have  found 


1 86  A  TRUE  DARRELL. 

such  a  husband.  I  am  quite  sure  of  one  thing — you  have 
everything  a  woman's  heart  can  desire. " 

"I  make  no  complaint,"  said  Lady  Darrell. 

"My  dear  child,  I  should  imagine  not;  there  are  few  women 
in  England  whose  position  equals  yours." 

' '  I  know  it, "  was  the  calm  reply. 

' '  And  you  may  really  thank  me  for  it ;  I  certainly  worked 
hard  for  you,  Elinor.  I  believe  that  if  I  had  not  interfered  you 
would  have  thrown  yourself  away  on  that  Captain  Langton. " 

' '  Captain  Langton  never  gave  me  the  chance,  aunt ;  so  we 
will  not  discuss  the  question. " 

"It  was  a  very  good  thing  for  you  that  he  never  did,"  re- 
marked her  ladyship.  "Mrs.  Bretherton  was  saying  to  me  the 
other  day  what  a  very  fortunate  girl  you  were — how  few  of  us 
have  our  heart's  desire. " 

' '  You  forget  one  thing,  aunt.  Even  if  I  have  everything  I 
want,  still  my  heart  is  empty, "  said  the  girl,  wearily. 

Lady  Hampton  smiled. 

' '  You  must  have  your  little  bit  of  sentiment,  Elinor,  but  you 
are  too  sensible  to  let  it  interfere  with  your  happiness.  How 
are  you  getting  on  with  that  terrible  Pauline  ?  I  do  dislike  that 
girl  from  the  very  depths  of  my  heart. " 

Lady  Darrell  shrugged  her  delicate  shoulders. 

"There  is  a  kind  of  armed  neutrality  between  us  at  present," 
she  said.  "Of  course,  I  have  nothing  to  fear  from  her,  but  I 
cannot  help  feeling  a  little  in  dread  of  her,  aunt. " 

"How  is  that?"    asked   Lady   Hampton,    contemptuously. 


A  TRUE  DARRELL.  187 

"She  is  a  girl  I  should  really  delight  to  thwart  and  contradict; 
but,  as  for  being  afraid  of  her,  I  consider  Frampton,  the  butler, 
a  far  more  formidable  person.  Why  do  you  say  that,  Elinor  ?" 

"She  has  a  way  with  her — I  cannot  describe  it — of  making 
every  one  else  feel  small.  I  cannot  tell  how  she  does  it,  but  she 
makes  me  very  uncomfortable. " 

' '  You  have  more  influence  over  Sir  Oswald  than  any  one  else 
in  the  world ;  if  she  troubles  you,  why  not  persuade  him  to 
send  her  away  ?" 

"I  dare  not,"  said  Lady  Darrell;  "besides,  I  do  not  think 
he  would  ever  care  to  do  that. " 

"Then  you  should  be  mistress  of  her,  Elinor — keep  her  in 
her  place. " 

Lady  Darrell  laughed  aloud. 

"I  do  not  think  even  your  skill  could  avail  here,  aunt.  She 
is  not  one  of  those  girls  you  can  extinguish  with  a  frown." 

"How  does  she  treat  you,  Elinor?  Tell  me  honestly."  said 
Lady  Hampton. 

"  I  can  hardly  describe  it.  She  is  never  rude  or  insolent ;  if 
she  were,  appeal  to  Sir  Oswald  would  be  very  easy.  She  has  a 
grand,  lofty  way  with  her — an  imperious  carriage  and  bearing 
that  I  really  think  he  admires.  She  ignores  me,  overlooks  me, 
and  there  is  a  scornful  gleam  in  her  eyes  at  times,  when  she 
does  look  at  me,  which  says  more  plainly  than  words,  'You 
married  for  money. ' " 

"And  you  did  a  very  sensible  thing,  too,  my  dear.     I  wish,  I 


1 88  A  TRUE  DARRELL. 

only  wish  I  had  the  management  of  Miss  Darrell ;  I  would 
break  her  spirit,  if  it  is  to  be  broken. " 

" I  do  not  think  it  is,"  said  Lady  Darrell,  rising  as  though 
she  were  weary  of  the  discussion.  ' '  There  is  nothing  in  her 
conduct  that  any  one  could  find  fault  with,  yet  I  feel  she  is  my 
enemy. " 

"Wait  a  while,"  returned  Lady  Hampton;  "her  turn  will 
come. " 

And  from  that  day  the  worthy  lady  tried  her  best  to  prejudice 
Sir  Oswald  against  his  proud,  beautiful,  wayward  niece. 


A  PUZZLING  QUESTION.  189 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A       PUZZLING       QUESTION. 

"Does  Miss  Darrell  show  any  signs  of  disappointment ?"  in- 
quired Lady  Hampton  one  day  of  Miss  Hastings. 

Miss  Hastings,  although  she  noticed  a  hundred  faults  in  the 
girl  which  she  would  fain  have  corrected,  had  nevertheless  a  true, 
strong,  and  warm  affection  for  her  pupil ;  she  was  not  one  there- 
fore to  play  into  the  enemy's  hand;  and,  when  Lady  Darrell 
fixed  her  eyes  upon  her,  full  of  eagerness  and  brightened  by 
curiosity,  Miss  Hastings  quietly  resolved  not  to  gratify  her. 

"Disappointment  about  what?"  she  asked.  "I  do  not  un- 
derstand you,  Lady  Hampton. " 

"About  the  property,"  explained  Lady  Hampton,  impatient- 
ly. "She  made  so  very  sure  of  it.  I  shall  never  forget  her  in- 
solent confidence.  Do  tell  me,  is  she  not  greatly  annoyed  and 
disappointed  ?" 

"Not  in  the  way  you  mean,  Lady  Hampton.  She  has  never 
spoken  of  such  a  thing. " 

Her  ladyship  felt  piqued ;  she  would  have  preferred  to  hear 
that  Pauline  did  feel  her  loss,  and  was  grieving  over  it.  In  that 


1 9o  A  PUZZLING  QUESTION. 

case  she  would  have  been  kind  to  her,  would  have  relented ; 
but  the  reflection  that  her  pride  was  still  unbending  annoyed 
her,  and  she  mentally  resolved  to  try  if  she  could  not  force  the 
girl  into  some  expression  of  her  feelings.  It  was  not  an  ami- 
able resolve,  but  Lady  Hampton  was  not  naturally  an  amiable 
woman. 

Fortune  favored  her.     That  very  day,  as  she  was  leaving  the 
Court,  she  saw  Pauline  standing  listlessly  by  the  lake  side  feed- 
ing the  graceful  white  swans.     She  went  up  to  her  with  a  mali 
cious  smile,  only  half-vailed  by  her  pretended  friendly  greeting. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Darrell?  You  are  looking  very 
melancholy.  There  is  nothing  the  matter,  I  hope?" 

For  any  one  to  attempt  to  humiliate  Pauline  was  simply  a 
waste  of  time  ;  the  girl's  natural  character  was  so  dignified  that 
all  attempts  of  the  kind  fell  through  or  told  most  upon  her  as- 
sailants. She  answered  Lady  Hampton  with  quiet  politeness, 
her  dark  eyes  hardly  resting  for  a  moment  upon  her. 

' '  You  do  not  seem  to  find  much  occupation  for  your  leisure 
hours,"  continued  Lady  Hampton.  "You  are  making  the 
round  of  the  grounds,  I  suppose  ?  They  are  very  beautiful.  I 
am  afraid  that  you  must  feel  keenly  how  much  my  niece  has  de- 
prived you  of. " 

It  was  not  a  lady-like  speech ;  but  Lady  Hampton  felt  irre- 
sistibly impelled  to  make  it— the  proud,  defiant,  beautiful  face 
provoked  her.  Pauline  merely  smiled;  she  had  self-control 
that  would  have  done  honor  to  one  much  older  and  more  ex- 
perienced. 


A  PUZZLING  QUESTION.  191 

"Your  niece  has  deprived  me  of  nothing,  Lady  Hampton," 
she  returned,  with  a  curl  of  the  lip,  for  which  the  elder  lady 
could  have  shaken  her.  "I  possess  one  great  advantage  of 
which  no  one  living  can  deprive  me — that  is,  the  Darrell  blood 
runs  in  my  veins." 

And,  with  a  bow,  she  walked  away,  leaving  her  ladyship  more 
angry  than  she  would  have  cared  to  own.  So  Pauline  met  all 
her  enemies.  Whatever  she  might  suffer,  they  should  not 
triumph  over  her.  Even  Sir  Oswald  felt  himself  compelled  to 
yield  to  her  an  admiration  that  he  had  never  given  before. 

He  was  walking  one  evening  on  the  terrace.  The  western 
sunbeams,  lingering  on  the  grand  old  building,  brightened  it 
into  beauty.  Flowers,  trees,  and  shrubs  were  all  in  their  fullest 
loveliness.  Presently  Sir  Oswald,  leaning  over  the  balustrade  of 
the  terrace,  saw  Pauline  sketching  in  the  grounds  below.  He 
went  to  her,  and  looked  over  her  shoulder.  She  was  just  com- 
pleting a  sketch  of  the  great  western  tower  of  the  Court ;  and 
he  was  struck  with  the  vivid  beauty  of  the  drawing. 

"You  love  Darrell  Court,  Pauline?"  he  said,  gently. 

She  raised  her  face  to  his  for  a  minute;  the  feud  between 
them  was  forgotten.  She  only  remembered  that  he  was  a  Dar- 
rell, and  she  his  nearest  of  kin. 

"I  do  love  it,  uncle,"  she  said,  "as  pilgrims  love  their  favorite 
shrine.  It  is  the  home  of  beauty,  of  romance,  the  cradle  of 
heroes ;  every  stone  is  consecrated  by  a  legend.  Love  is  a  weak 
word  for  what  I  feel. " 

He  looked  at  the  glowing  face,    and  for  a  few  moments  a 


I92  A  PUZZLING  QUESTION. 

doubt  assailed  him  as  to  whether  he  had  done  right  in  depriving 
this  true  Darrell  of  her  inheritance. 

"But,    Pauline/'  he  said,   slowly,    "you  would  never  have 

She  sprang  from  her  seat  with  a  quickness  that  almost  startled 
him.  She  had  forgotten  all  that  had  happened ;  but  now  it  all 
returned  to  her  with  a  bitter  pang  that  could  not  be  controlled. 

"Hush,  Sir  Oswald  !"  she  cried,  interrupting  him ;  "it  is  too 
late  for  us  to  talk  about  Darrell  Court  now.  Pray  do  not  mis- 
understand me ;  I  was  only  expressing  my  belief. " 

She  bent  down  to  take  up  her  drawing  materials. 

"I  do  not  misunderstand  you,  child,"  he  said,  sadly.  "You 
love  it  because  it  is  the  home  of  a  race  you  love,  and  not  for  its 
mere  worth  in  money. " 

Her  dark  eyes  seemed  to  flash  with  fire ;  the  glorious  face 
had  never  softened  so  before. 

' '  You  speak  truly, "  she  said ;   ' '  that  is  exactly  what  I  mean. " 

Then  she  went  away,  liking  Sir  Oswald  better  than  she  had 
ever  liked  him  in  her  life  before.  He  looked  after  her  half-, 
sadly. 

"A  glorious  girl !"  he  said  to  himself;  "a  true  Darrell !  I 
hope  I  have  not  made  a  mistake." 

Lady  Darrell  made  no  complaint  to  her  husband  of  Pauline  ; 
the  girl  gave  her  no  tangible  cause  of  complaint.  She  could 
not  complain  to  Sir  Oswald  that  Pauline's  eyes  always  rested  on 
her  with  a  scornful  glance,  half-humorous,  half-mocking.  She 
could  not  complain  of  that  strange  power  Miss  Darrell  exercised 


A  PUZZLING  QUESTION.  193 

of  making  her  always  "feel  so  small."  She  would  gladly  have 
made  friends  with  Miss  Darrell ;  she  had  no  idea  of  keeping 
up  any  species  of  warfare ;  but  Pauline  resisted  all  her  advances. 
Lady  Darrell  had  a  strange  kind  of  half-fear,  which  made  her 
ever  anxious  to  conciliate. 

She  remarked  to  herself  how  firm  and  steadfast  Pauline  was  ; 
there  was  no  weakness,  no  cowardice  in  her  character ;  she  was 
strong,  self-reliant;  and,  discerning  that,  Lady  Darrell  asked 
herself  often,  "What  will  Pauline's  vengeance  be  ?" 

The  question  puzzled  her  far  more  than  she  would  have  cared 
to  own.  What  shape  would  her  vengeance  assume?  What 
could  she  do  to  avoid  it  ?  When  would  it  overtake  her  ? 

Then  she  would  laugh  at  herself.  What  was  there  to  fear  in 
the  wildly-uttered,  dramatic  threats  of  a  helpless  girl  ?  Could 
she  take  her  husband  from  her  ?  No ;  it  was  not  in  any  human 
power  to  do  that.  Could  she  take  her  wealth,  title,  position, 
from  her?  No  ;  that  was  impossible.  Could  she  make  her  un- 
happy? No,  again;  that  did  not  seem  to  be  in  her  power. 
Lady  Darrell  would  try  to  laugh,  but  one  look  at  the  beautiful, 
proud  face,  with  its  dark,  proud  eyes  and  firm  lips,  would  bring 
the  coward  fear  back  again. 

She  tried  her  best  to  conciliate  her.  She  was  always  putting 
little  pleasures,  little  amusements,  in  her  way,  of  which  Pauline 
never  availed  herself.  She  was  always  urging  Sir  Oswald  to 
make  her  some  present  or  to  grant  her  some  indulgence.  She 
never  interfered  with  her ;  even  when  suggestions  from  her 
would  have  been  useful,  she  never  made  them.  She  was  mis- 


194  A  PUZZLING  QUESTION. 

tress  of  the  house,  but  she  allowed  the  utmost  freedom  and 
liberty  to  this  girl,  who  never  thanked  her,  and  who  never  asked 
her  for  a  single  favor. 

Sir  Oswald  admired  this  grace  and  sweetness  in  his  wife  more 
than  he  had  ever  admired  anything  else.  Certainly,  contrasted 
with  Pauline's  blunt,  abrupt  frankness,  these  pretty,  bland, 
suave  ways  shone  to  advantage.  He  saw  that  his  wife  did  her 
best  to  conciliate  the  girl,  that  she  was  always  kind  and  gracious 
to  her.  He  saw,  also,  that  Pauline  never  responded;  that 
nothing  ever  moved  her  from  the  proud,  defiant  attitude  she 
had  from  the  first  assumed. 

He  said  to  himself  that  he  could  only  hope ;  in  time  things 
must  alter ;  his  wife's  caressing  ways  must  win  Pauline  over, 
and  then  they  would  be  good  friends. 

So  he  comforted  himself,  and  the  edge  of  a  dark  precipice 
was  for  a  time  covered  with  flowers. 

The  autumn  and  winter  passed  away,  spring-tide  opened  fair 
and  beautiful,  and  Miss  Hastings  watched  her  pupil  with  daily 
increasing  anxiety.  Pauline  never  spoke  of  her  disappoint- 
ment ;  she  bore  herself  as  though  it  had  never  happened,  her 
pride  never  once  giving  way;  but,  for  all  that,  the  governess 
saw  that  her  whole  character  and  disposition  was  becoming 
warped.  She  watched  Pauline  in  fear.  If  circumstances  had 
been  propitious  to  her,  if  Sir  Oswald  would  but  have  trusted 
her,  would  but  have  had  more  patience  with  her,  would  but 
have  awaited  the  sure  result  of  a  little  more  knowledge  and  ex- 
perience, she  would  have  developed  into  a  noble  and  magnifi- 


A  PUZZLING  QUESTION.  195 

cent  woman,  she  would  have  been  one  of  the  grandest  Darrells 
that  ever  reigned  at  the  old  Court.  But  Sir  Oswald  had  not 
trusted  her;  he  had  not  been  willing  to  await  the  result  of 
patient  training;  he  had  been  impetuous  and  hasty,  and, 
though  Pauline  was  too  proud  to  own  it,  the  disappointment 
preyed  upon  her  until  it  completely  changed  her.  It  was  all 
the  deeper  and  more  concentrated  because  she  made  no  sign. 

This  girl,  noble  of  soul,  grand  of  nature,  sensitive,  proud,  and 
impulsive,  gave  her  whole  life  to  one  idea — her  disappointment 
and  the  vengeance  due  to  it ;  the  very  grandeur  of  her  virtues 
helped  to  intensify  her  faults ;  the  very  strength  of  her  character 
seemed  to  deepen  and  darken  the  idea  over  which  she  brooded 
incessantly  by  night  and  by  day.  She  was  bent  on  vengeance. 


196  SIX  OSWALD'S  DOUBTS. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
SIR    OSWALD'S    DOUBTS. 

It  was  the  close  of  a]  spring  day.  Lady  Hampton  had  been 
spending  it  at  Darrell  Court,  and  General  Deering,  an  old  friend 
of  Sir  Oswald's,  who  was  visiting  in  the  neighborhood,  had 
joined  the  party  at  dinner.  When  dinner  was  over,  and  the 
golden  sunbeams  were  still  brightening  the  beautiful  rooms,  he 
asked  Sir  Oswald  to  show  him  the  picture-gallery. 

"You  have  a  fine  collection,"  he  said — "every  one  tells  me 
that ;  but  it  is  not  only  the  pictures  I  want  to  see,  but  the  Dar- 
rell faces.  I  heard  the  other  day  that  the  Darrells  were  general- 
ly acknowledged  to  be  the  handsomest  race  in  England." 

The  baronet's  clear-cut,  stately  face  flushed  a  little. 

"I  hope  England  values  us  for  something  more  useful  than 
merely  handsome  faces, "  he  rejoined,  with  a  touch  of  hauteur 
that  made  the  general  smile. 

"Certainly,"  he  hastened  to  say;  "but  in  this  age,  when  per- 
sonal beauty  is  said  to  be  on  the  decrease,  it  is  something  to 
own  a  handsome  face." 

The  picture-gallery  was  a  very  extensive  one ;  it  was  wide  and 


SIX  OSWALD'S  DOUBTS.  i97 

well  lighted,  the  floor  was  covered  with  rich  crimson  cloth, 
white  statues  gleamed  from  amid  crimson  velvet  hangings,  the 
walls  were  covered  with  rare  and  valuable  pictures.  But  Gen- 
eral Deering  saw  a  picture  that  day  in  the  gallery  which  he  was 
never  to  forget. 

Lady  Hampton  was  not  enthusiastic  about  art  unless  there 
was  something  to  be  gained  by  it.  There  was  nothing  to  excite 
her  cupidity  now,  her  last  niece  being  married,  so  her  ladyship 
could  afford  to  take  matters  calmly ;  she  reclined  at  her  ease  on 
one  of  the  crimson  lounges,  and  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  a  quiet 
nap. 

The  general  paused  fcr  a  while  before  some  of  Horace  Ver- 
net's  battle-pieces;  they  delighted  him.  Pauline  had  walked 
on  to  the  end  of  the  gallery,  and  Lady  Darrell,  always  anxious 
to  conciliate  her,  had  followed.  The  picture  that  struck  the 
general  most  were  the  two  ladies  as  they  stood  side  by  side — 
Lady  Darrell  with  the  sheen  of  gold  in  her  hair,  the  soft  luster 
of  gleaming  /pearls  on  her  white  neck,  the  fairness  of  her  face 
heightened  by  its  dainty  rose-leaf  bloom,  her  evening  dress  of 
sweeping  white  silk  setting  off  the  graceful,  supple  lines  of  her 
figure,  all  thrown  into  such  vivid  light  by  the  crimson  carpet  on 
which  she  stood  and  the  background  of  crimson  velvet ;  Pauline 
like  some  royal  lady  in  her  trailing  black  robes,  with  the  massive 
coils  of  her  dark  hair  wound  round  the  graceful,  haughty  head, 
and  her  grand  face  with  its  dark,  glorious  eyes  and  rich  ruby 
lips.  The  one  looked  fair,  radiant,  and  charming  as  a  Parisian 
coquette ;  the  other  like  a  Grecian  goddess,  superb,  magnificent, 


198  SIX  OSWALD'S  DOUBTS. 

queenly,  simple  in  her  exquisite  beauty — art  or  ornaments 
could  do  nothing  for  her. 

"Look,"  said  the  general  to  Sir  Oswald,  "that  picture  sur- 
passes anything  you  have  on  your  walls. " 

Sir  Oswald  bowed. 

"What  a  beautiful  girl  your  niece  is!"  the  old  soldier  con- 
tinued. "See  how  her  face  resembles  this  of  Lady  Edelgitha 
Darrell.  Pray  do  not  think  me  impertinent,  but  I  cannot  im- 
agine, old  friend,  why  you  married,  so  devoted  to  bachelor  life 
as  you  were,  when  you  had  a  niece  so  beautiful,  so  true  a  Dar- 
rell, for  your  heiress.  I  am  puzzled  now  that  I  see  her. " 

"She  lacked  training,"  said  Sir  Oswald. 

"Training?"  repeated  the  general,  contemptuously.  "What 
do  you  call  training?  Do  you  mean  that  she  was  not  experi- 
enced in  all  the  little  trifling  details  of  a  dinner-table — that  she 
could  not  smile  as  she  told  graceful  little  untruths  ?  Training  ! 
Why,  that  girl  is  a  queen  among  women  ;  a  noble  soul  shines 
in  her  grand  face,  there  is  a  royal  grandeur  of  nature  about  her 
that  training  could  never  give.  I  have  lived  long,  but  I  have 
never  seen  such  a  woman. " 

"She  had  such  strange,  out-of-the-way,  unreal  notions,  I 
dared  not — that  is  the  truth — I  dared  not  leave  Darrell  Court  to 
her." 

' '  I  hope  you  have  acted  wisely, "  said  the  general ;  ' '  but,  as 
an  old  friend  and  a  true  one,  I  must  say  that  I  doubt  it. " 

' '  My  wife,  I  am  happy  to  say,  has  plenty  of  common  sense, " 
observed  Sir  Oswald. 


SSJ?  OSWALD'S  DOUBTS.  199 

"  Your  wife/'  returned  the  general,  looking  at  the  sheen  of 
the  golden  hair  and  the  shining  dress,  "is  pretty,  graceful,  and 
amiable,  but  that  girl  has  all  the  soul ;  there  is  as  much  differ- 
ence between  them  as  between  a  golden  buttercup  and  a  dark, 
stately,  queenly  rose.  The  rose  should  have  been  ruler  at  Dar- 
rell  Court,  old  friend. " 

Then  he  asked,  abruptly  : 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  for  her,  Sir  Oswald?" 

"I  have  provided  for  her,"  he  replied. 

"Darrell  Court,  then,  and  all  its  rich  revenues  go  to  your 
wife,  I  presume?" 

' '  Yes,  to  my  wife, "  said  Sir  Oswald. 

"Unconditionally?"  asked  the  general. 

"Most  certainly,"  was  the  impatient  reply. 

"Well,  my  friend,"  said  the  general,  "in  this  world  every 
one  does  as  he  or  she  likes ;  but  to  disinherit  that  girl,  with  the 
face  and  spirit  of  a  true  Darrell,  and  to  put  a  fair,  amiable 
blonde  stranger  in  her  place,  was,  to  say  the  least,  eccentric — 
the  world  will  deem  it  so,  at  any  rate.  If  I  were  forty  years 
younger  I  would  win  Pauline  Darrell,  and  make  her  love  me. 
But  we  must  join  the  ladies — they  will  think  us  very  remiss." 

"Sweet  smiles,  no  mind,  an  amiable  manner,  no  intellect, 
prettiness  after  the  fashion  of  a  Parisian  doll,  to  be  preferred  to 
that  noble,  truthful,  queenly  girl !  Verily  tastes  differ, "  thought 
the  general,  as  he  watched  the  two,  contrasted  them,  and  lost 
himself  in  wonder  over  his  friend's  folly. 

He  took  his  leave  soon  afterward,  gravely  musing  on  what  he 


200  SIX  OSWALD'S  DOUBTS. 

could  not  understand — why  his  old  friend  had  done  what 
seemed  to  him  a  rash,  ill-judged  deed. 

He  left  Sir  Oswald  in  a  state  of  great  discomfort.  Of  course 
he  loved  his  wife — loved  her  with  a  blind  infatuation  that  did 
more  honor  to  his  heart  than  his  head — but  he  had  always  relied 
so  implicitly  on  the  general's  judgment.  He  found  himself 
half  wishing  that  in  this,  the  crowning  action  of  his  life,  he  had 
consulted  his  old  friend. 

He  never  knew  how  that  clever  woman  of  the  world,  Lady 
Hampton,  had  secretly  influenced  him.  He  believed  that  he 
had  acted  entirely  on  his  own  clear  judgment ;  and  now,  for  the 
first  time,  he  doubted  that. 

"You  look  anxious,  Oswald,"  said  Lady  Darrell,  as  she  bent 
down  and  with  her  fresh,  sweet  young  lips  touched  his  brow. 
"Has  anything  troubled  you?" 

"No,  my  darling,"  he  replied;  "I  do  not  feel  quite  well, 
though.  I  have  had  a  dull,  nervous  heaviness  about  me  all 
day — a  strange  sensation  of  pain  too.  I  shall  be  better  to- 
morrow." 

"If  not/'  she  said,  sweetly,  "I  shall  insist  on  your  seeing 
Doctor  Helmstone.  I  am  quite  uneasy  about  you. " 

"You  are  very  kind  to  me,"  he  responded,  gratefully. 

But  all  her  uneasiness  did  not  prevent  her  drawing  the  white 
lace  round  her  graceful  shoulders  and  taking  up  the  third  vol- 
ume of  a  novel  in  which  she  was  deeply  interested,  while  Sir 
Oswald,  looking  older  and  grayer  than  he  had  looked  before, 
went  into  the  garden  for  a  stroll. 


OSWALD'S  DOUBTS.  201 

The  sunbeams  were  so  loth  to  go ;  they  lingered  even  now 
on  the  tips  of  the  trees  and  the  flowers ;  they  lingered  on  the 
lake  and  in  the  rippling  spray  of  the  fountains.  Sir  Oswald  sat 
down  by  the  lake-side. 

Had  he  done  wrong  ?  Was  it  a  foolish  mistake — one  that  he 
could  not  undo  ?  Was  Pauline  indeed  the  grand,  noble, 
queenly  girl  his  friend  thought  her?  Would  she  have  made  a 
mistress  suitable  for  Darrell  Court,  or  had  he  done  right  to 
bring  this  fair,  blonde  stranger  into  his  home — this  dearly-loved 
young  wife  ?  What  would  she  do  with  Darrell  Court  if  he  left 
it  to  her  ?  The  great  wish  of  his  heart  for  a  son  to  succeed  him 
had  not  been  granted  to  him ;  but  he  had  made  his  will,  and  in 
it  he  had  left  Darrell  Court  to  his  wife. 

He  looked  at  the  home  he  had  loved  so  well.  Ah,  cruel 
death !  If  he  could  but  have  taken  it  with  him,  or  have 
watched  over  it  from  another  world !  But  when  death  came  he 
must  leave  it,  and  a  dull,  uneasy  foreboding  came  over  him  as 
to  what  he  should  do  in  favor  of  this  idolized  home. 

As  he  looked  at  it,  tears  rose  to  his  eyes ;  and  then  he  saw 
Pauline  standing  a  little  way  from  him,  the  proud,  beautiful 
face  softened  into  tenderness,  the  dark  eyes  full  of  kindness. 
She  went  up  to  him  more  affectionately  than  she  had  ever  done 
in  her  life ;  she  knelt  on  the  grass  by  his  side. 

" Uncle,"  she  said,  quietly,  "you  look  very  ill;  are  you  in 
trouble  ?" 

He  held  out  his  hands  to  her ;  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  all 
his  heart  seemed  to  go  out  to  this  glorious  daughter  of  his  race. 


202  SIX  OSWALD'S  DOUBTS. 

"Pauline,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  broken  voice,  "I  am  thinking 
about  you — I  am  wondering  about  you.  Have  I  done — I  won- 
der, have  I  done  wrong?" 

A  clear  light  flashed  into  her  noble  face. 

"Do  you  refer  to  Darrell  Court?"  she  asked.  "If  you  do, 
you  have  done  wrong.  I  think  you  might  have  trusted  me.  I 
have  many  faults,  but  I  am  a  true  Darrell.  I  would  have  done 
full  justice  to  the  trust. " 

"I  never  thought  so,"  he  returned,  feebly;  "and  I  did  it  all 
for  the  best,  as  I  imagined,  Pauline. " 

' '  I  know  you  did — I  am  sure  you  did, "  she  agreed,  eagerly ; 
4 '  I  never  thought  otherwise.  It  was  not  you,  uncle.  I  under- 
stand all  that  was  brought  to  bear  upon  you.  You  are  a  Dar- 
rell, honorable,  loyal,  true;  you  do  not  understand  anything 
that  is  not  straightforward.  I  do,  because  my  life  has  been  so 
different  from  yours. " 

He  was  looking  at  her  with  a  strange,  wavering  expression  in 
his  face ;  the  girl's  eyes,  full  of  sympathy,  were  turned  on  him. 

"Pauline,"  he  said,  feebly,  "if  I  have  done  wrong — and,  oh, 
I  am  so  loth  to  believe  it — you  will  forgive  me,  my  dear,  will 
you  not?" 

For  the  first  time  he  held  out  his  arms  to  her ;  for  the  first 
time  she  went  close  to  him  and  kissed  his  face.  It  was  well 
that  Lady  Hampton  was  not  there  to  see.  Pauline  heard  him 
murmur  something  about  "a  true  Darrell — the  last  of  the  Dar- 
rells,"  and  when  she  raised  her  head  she  foand  that  Sir  Oswald 
had  fallen  into  a  deep,  deadly  swoon. 


READING  OF  THE  WILL.  203 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

READING      OF     THE      WILL. 

Assistance  was  soon  procured,  and  Sir  Oswald  was  carried  to 
his  room ;  Doctor  Helmstone  was  sent  for,  and  when  he  arrived 
the  whole  house  was  in  confusion.  Lady  Darrell  wrung  her 
hands  in  the  most  graceful  distress. 

' '  Now,  Elinor, "  said  Lady  Hampton,  ' '  pray  do  not  give  way 
to  anything  of  that  kind.  It  is  a  fortunate  thing  for  you  that  I 
am  here.  Let  me  beg  of  you  to  remember  that,  whatever  hap- 
pens, you  are  magnificently  provided  for,  Sir  Oswald  told  me  as 
much.  There  is  really  no  need  to  excite  yourself  in  that 
fashion. " 

While  Lady  Darrell,  with  a  few  graceful  exclamations  and  a 
very  pretty  show  of  sorrow,  managed  to  attract  all  possible  sym- 
pathy, Pauline  moved  about  with  a  still,  cold  face,  which  those 
best  understood  who  knew  her  nature.  It  seemed  incredible 
to  the  girl  that  anything  unexpected  should  happen  to  her 
uncle.  She  had  only  just  begun  to  love  him ;  that  evening 
had  brought  those  two  proud  hearts  closer  together  than  they 
had  ever  been ;  the  ice  was  broken ;  each  had  a  glimmering 


204  READING  OF  THE  WILL. 

perception  of  the  real  character  of  the  other — a  perception  that 
in  time  would  have  developed  into  perfect  love.  It  seemed  too 
hard  that  after  he  had  just  begun  to  like  her— that  as  soon  as  a 
fresh  and  genuine  sentiment  was  springing  up  between  them — 
he  must  die. 

For  it  had  come  to  that.  Care,  skill,  talent,  watching,  were 
all  in  vain ;  he  must  die.  Grave-faced  doctors  had  consulted 
about  him,  and  with  professional  keenness  had  seen  at  once 
that  his  case  was  hopeless.  The  ailment  was  a  sudden  and 
dangerous  one — violent  inflammation  of  the  lungs.  No  one 
could  account  for  the  sudden  seizure.  Sir  Oswald  had  com- 
plained of  pain  during  the  day,  but  no  one  thought  that  it  was 
anything  of  a  serious  nature.  His  manner,  certainly,  had  been 
strange,  with  a  sad  pathos  quite  unlike  himself;  but  no  one  saw 
in  that  the  commencement  of  a  mortal  illness. 

Lady  Hampton  frequently  observed  how  fortunate  it  was  that 
she  was  there.  To  all  inquiries  as  to  the  health  of  her  niece, 
she  replied,  "Poor,  dear  Lady  Darrell  is  bearing  up  wonder- 
fully ; "  and  with  the  help  of  pathetic  little  speeches,  the  fre- 
quent use  of  a  vinaigrette,  a  few  tears,  and  some  amiable  self- 
condolence,  that  lady  did  bear  up. 

Strange  to  say,  the  one  who  felt  the  keenest  sorrow,  the  deep- 
est regret,  the  truest  pain,  was  the  niece  with  whom  Sir  Oswald 
had  continually  founds  fault,  and  whom  he  had  disinherited. 
She  went  about  with  a  sorrow  on  her  face  more  eloquent  than 
words.  Lady  Hampton  said  it  was  all  assumed ;  but  Lady 


READING  OF  THE  WILL.  205 

Darrell  said,  more  gently,  that  Pauline  was  not  a  girl  to  assume 
a  grief  which  she  did  not  feel. 

So  the  baronet  died  after  a  week  of  severe  illness,  during 
which  he  never  regained  the  power  of  speech,  nor  could  make 
himself  intelligible.  The  most  distressing  thing  was  that  there 
was  evidently  something  which  he  wished  to  say — something 
which  he  desired  to  make  them  understand.  When  Pauline 
was  in  the  room  his  eyes  followed  her  with  a  wistful  glance,  piti- 
ful, sad,  distressing  ;  he  evidently  wished  to  say  something,  but 
had  not  the  power. 

With  that  wish  unexpressed  he  died,  and  they  never  knew 
what  it  was.  Only  Pauline  thought  that  he  meant,  even  at  the 
last,  to  ask  her  forgiveness  and  to  do  her  justice. 

Darrell  Court  was  thrown  into  deepest  mourning;  the  ser- 
vants went  about  with  hushed  footsteps  and  sorrowful  faces. 
He  had  been  kind  to  them,  this  stately  old  master ;  and  who 
knew  what  might  happen  under  the  new  regime?  Lady  Hamp- 
ton was,  she  assured  every  one,  quite  overwhelmed  with  busi- 
ness. She  had  to  make  all  arrangements  for  the  funeral,  to 
order  all  the  mourning,  while  Lady  Darrell  was  supposed  -to  be 
overwhelmed  with  sorrow  in  the  retirement  of  her  own  room. 

One  fine  spring  morning,  while  the  pretty  bluebells  were 
swaying  in  the  wind,  and  the  hawthorn  was  shining  pink  and 
white  on  the  hedges,  while  the  birds  sang  and  the  sun  shone, 
Sir  Oswald  Darrell  was  buried,  and  the  secret  of  what  he  had 
wished  to  say  or  have  done  was  buried  with  him. 

At  Lady  DarreH's  suggestion,  Captain  Langton  was  sent  for 


206  READING  OF  THE  WILL. 

to  attend  the  funeral.  It  was  a  grand  and  stately  procession. 
All  the  elite  of  the  county  were  there,  all  the  tenantry  from  Aud- 
leigh  Royal,  all  the  friends  who  had  known  Sir  Oswald  and  re- 
spected him. 

"Was  he  the  last  of  the  Darrells?'  one  asked  of  another; 
and  many  looked  at  the  stately,  dark-eyed  girl  who  bore  the 
name,  wondering  how  he  had  left  his  property,  whether  his 
niece  would  succeed  him,  or  his  wife  take  all.  They  talked  of 
this  in  subdued  whispers  as  the  funeral  cortege  wound  its  way  to 
the  church,  they  talked  of  it  after  the  coffin  had  been  lowered 
into  the  vault,  and  they  talked  of  it  as  the  procession  made  its 
way  back  to  Darrell  Court. 

As  Lady  Hampton  said,  it  was  a  positive  relief  to  open  the 
windows  and  let  the  blessed  sunshine  in,  to  draw  up  the  heavy 
blinds,  to  do  away  with  the  dark,  mourning  aspect  of  the  place. 

Everything  had  been  done  according  to  rule — no  peer  of  the 
realm  could  have  had  a  more  magnificent  funeral.  Lady 
Hampton  felt  that  in  every  respect  full  honor  had  been  done 
both  to  the  living  and  the  dead. 

"Now,"  she  wisely  remarked,  "there  is  nothing  to  be  done, 
save  to  bear  up  as  well  as  it  is  possible. " 

Then,  after  a  solemn  and  dreary  dinner,  the  friends  and  in  - 
vited  guests  went  away,  and  the  most  embarrassing  ceremony  of 
all  had  to  be  gone  through — the  reading  of  the  will. 

Mr.  Ramsden,  the  family  solicitor,  was  in  attendance.  Cap- 
tain Langton,  Lady  Darrell,  Lady  Hampton,  and  Miss  Darrell 
took  their  seats.  Once  or  twice  Lady  Hampton  looked  with  a 


READING  OF  THE  rflLL.  207 

smile  of  malicious  satisfaction  at  the  proud,  calm  face  of  Pau- 
line. There  was  nothing  there  to  gratify  her-— no  queen  could 
have  assisted  at  her  own  dethronement  with  prouder  majesty  or 
prouder  grace.  Some  of  the  old  retainers,  servants  who  had 
been  in  the  family  from  their  earliest  youth,  said  there  was  not 
one  who  did  not  wish  in  his  heart  that  Pauline  might  have  Dar- 
rell  Court. 

Lady  Darrell,  clad  in  deepest  mourning,  was  placed  in  a  large 
easy-chair  in  the  center  of  the  group,  her  aunt  by  her  side. 
She  looked  extremely  delicate  and  lovely  in  her  black  sweeping 
robes. 

Pauline,  who  evidently  thought  the  ceremony  an  empty  one, 
as  far  as  she  was  concerned,  stood  near  the  table.  She  declined 
the  chair  that  Captain  Langton  placed  for  her.  Her  uncle  was 
dead;  she  regretted  him  with  true,  unfeigned,  sincere  sorrow; 
but  the  reading  of  his  will  had  certainly  nothing  to  do  with  her. 
There  was  not  the  lest  shadow  on  her  face,  not  the  least  discom- 
posure in  her  manner.  To  look  at  her  one  would  never  have 
thought  she  was  there  to  hear  the  sentence  of  disinheritance. 

Lady  Darrell  did  not  look  quite  so  tranquil ;  everything  was 
at  stake  for  her.  She  held  her  dainty  handkerchief  to  her  face 
lest  the  trembling  of  her  lips  should  be  seen. 

Mr.  Ramsden  read  the  will,  and  its  contents  did  not  take  any 
one  much  by  surprise.  The  most  important  item  was  a  legacy 
of  ten  thousand  pounds  to  Captain  Aubrey  Langton.  To  Pau- 
line Darrell  was  left  an  annuity  of  five  hundred  pounds  per 
annum,  with  the  strict  injunction  that  she  should  live  at  Darrell 


208  READING  OF  THE  WILL. 

Court  until  her  marriage ;  if  she  never  married,  she  was  to  re- 
side there  until  her  death.  To  all  his  faithful  servants  Sir  Os- 
wald left  legacies  and  annuities.  To  his  well-beloved  wife,  Eli- 
nor, he  bequeathed  all  else — Darrell  Court,  with  its  rich  depen- 
dencies and  royal  revenues,  his  estate  in  Scotland,  his  house  in 
town,  together  with  all  the  valuable  furniture,  plate,  jewelry, 
pictures,  all  the  moneys  that  had  accumulated  during  his  life- 
time— all  to  her,  to  hold  at  her  will  and  pleasure;  there  was  no 
restriction,  no  condition  to  mar  the  legacy. 

To  the  foregoing  Sir  Oswald  had  added  a  codicil;  he  left 
Miss  Hastings  one  hundred  pounds  per  annum,  and  begged  of 
her  to  remain  at  Darrell  Court  as  companion  to  Lady  Darrell 
and  his  niece. 

Then  the  lawyer  folded  up  the  parchment,  and  the  ceremony 
was  ended. 

"A  very  proper  will,"  said  Lady  Hampton;  "it  really  does 
poor  dear  Sir  Oswald  credit. " 

They  hasten  to  congratulate  Lady  Darrell ;  but  Captain  Lang- 
ton,  it  was  noticed,  forgot  to  do  so — he  was  watching  Pauline's 
calm,  unconcerned  departure  from  the  room. 


WAITING  FOR  REVENGE.  209 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

WAITING     FOR     REVENGE. 

There  was  a  slight,  only  a  very  slight  difference  of  opinion 
between  Lady  Darrell  and  her  aunt  after  the  reading  of  the  will. 
Lady  Hampton  would  fain  have  given  up  the  Elms,  and  have 
gone  to  live  at  Darrell  Court. 

"Sir  Oswald's  will  is  a  very  just  one,"  she  said,  ''admirable 
in  every  respect;  but  I  should  never  dream,  were  I  in  your 
place,  Elinor,  of  keeping  that  proud  girl  here.  Let  her  go.  I 
will  come  and  live  with  you.  I  shall  make  a  better  chaperon 
than  that  poor,  faded  Miss  Hastings. " 

But  Lady  Darrell  was  eager  to  taste  the  sweets  of  power,  and 
she  knew  how  completely  her  aunt  would  take  every  vestige  of 
it  from  her. 

She  declared  her  intention  to  adhere  most  strictly  to  the 
terms  of  the  will. 

"And,  aunt,"  she  continued,  with  firmness  quite  new  to  her, 
"it  would  be  so  much  better,  I  think,  for  you  to  keep  at  the 
Elms.  People  might  make  strange  remarks  if  you  came  here 
to  live  with  me." 


210  WAITING  FOR  REVENGE. 

Lady  Hampton  was  shrewd  enough  to  see  that  she  must 
abide  by  her  niece's  decision. 

The  captain  was  to  remain  only  two  days  at  Darrell  Court, 
and  Lady  Darrell  was  anxious  to  spend  some  little  time  with 
him. 

"I  like  the  captain,  aunt,"  she  said ;   "he  amuses  me." 

Lady  Hampton  remembered  how  she  had  spoken  of  him  be- 
fore, and  it  was  not  her  intention  that  her  beautiful  niece  should 
fling  away  herself  and  her  magnificent  fortune  on  Aubrey 
Langton. 

"She  is  sure  to  marry  again,"  thought  the  lady ;  "and,  dow- 
ered as  she  is,  she  ought  to  marry  a  duke,  at  least." 

She  represented  to  her  that  it  was  hardly  etiquette  for  her,  a 
widow  so  young,  and  her  loss  'being  so  recent,  to  entertain  a 
handsome  young  officer. 

"I  do  not  see  that  the  fact  of  his  being  handsome  makes  any 
difference,  aunt,"  said  Lady  Darrell;  "still,  if  you  think  I  must 
remain  shut  up  in  my  room  while  the  captain  is  here,  of  couise, 
I  will  remain  so,  though  it  seems  very  hard. " 

"Appearances  are  everything,"  observed  Lady  Hampton, 
sagely;  "and  you  cannot  be  too  careful  at  first." 

"Does  he  seem  to  pay  Pauline  any  attention?"  asked  the 
young  widow,  eagerly. 

' '  I  have  never  heard  them  exchange  more  than  a  few  words 
— indeed  the  circumstance  has  puzzled  me,  Elinor.  I  have 
seen  him  look-  at  her  as  though  he  worshiped  her  and  as  though 


WAITING  FOR  REVENGE.  211 

he  hated  her.     As  for  Miss  Darrell,  she  seems  to  treat  him  with 
contemptuous  indifference/' 

' '  I  used  to  think  he  liked  her, "  said  Lady  Darrell,  musingly. 

"He  liked  the  future  heiress  of  Darrell  Court,"  rejoined  Lady 
Hampton.  "All  his  love  has  gone  with  her  prospects,  you 
may  rely  upon  it." 

Lady  Darrell,  brought  up  in  a  school  that  would  sacrifice  even 
life  itself  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  knew  there  was  no  help 
for  her  enforced  retirement.  She  remained  in  her  rooms  until 
the  young  officer  had  left  the  Court. 

Lady  Hampton  was  not  the  only  one  who  felt  puzzled  at  Pau- 
line's behavior  to  the  captain.  Miss  Hastings,  who  understood 
her  pupil  perhaps  better  than  any  one,  was  puzzled.  There  was 
somewhat  of  a  calm,  unutterable  contempt  in  her  manner  of 
treating  him.  He  could  not  provoke  her;  no  matter  what  he 
said,  she  would  not  be  provoked  into  retort.  She  never  ap- 
peared to  remember  his  existence;  no  one  could  have  been 
more  completely  ignored ;  and  Captain  Langton  himself  was 
but  too  cognizant  of  the  fact.  If  he  could  have  but  piqued  or 
aroused  her,  have  stung  her  into  some  exhibition  of  feeling,  he 
would  have  been  content ;  but  no  statue  could  have  been  cold- 
er, no  queen  prouder.  If  any  little  attention  was  required  at 
her  hands  she  paid  it,  but  there  was  no  denying  the  fact  that  it 
was  rendered  in  such  a  manner  that  the  omission  would  have 
been  preferable. 

On  the  evening  of  his  departure  Lady  Hampton  went  down 


212  WAITING  FOR  REVENGE. 

to  wish  him  farewell ;  she  conveyed  to  him  Lady  DarreH's  regret 
at  not  being  able  to  do  the  same. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  the  captain;  "though,  of  course, 
under  the  circumstances,  I  could  hardly  hope  for  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  Lady  Darrell.  Perhaps  you  will  tell  her  that  in  the 
autumn,  with  her  permission,  I  shall  hope  to  revisit  the  Court/' 

Lady  Hampton  said  to  herself  that  she  should  take  no  such 
message.  The  dearest  wish  of  her  heart  was  that  the  gallant 
captain  should  never  be  seen  there  again.  But  she  made  some 
gracious  reply,  and  then  asked,  suddenly : 

"Have  you  seen  Miss  Darrell?  Have  you  said  good-by  to 
her?" 

Aubrey  Langton  looked  slightly  confused. 

' '  I  have  not  seen  her  to-day, "  he  replied. 

Lady  Hampton  smiled  very  graciously. 

' '  I  will  send  for  her, "  she  said ;  and  when,  in  answer  to  her 
summons,  a  servant  entered,  she  asked  that  Miss  Darrell  might 
be  requested  to  favor  her  with  her  presence  in  the  library.  It 
did  not  escape  her  keen  observation  that  Captain  Langton  would 
rather  have  avoided  the  interview. 

Pauline  entered  with  the  haughty  grace  so  natural  to  her; 
her  proud  eyes  never  once  glanced  at  the  captain ;  he  was  no 
more  to  her  than  the  very  furniture  in  the  room 

"You  wished  to  see  me,  Lady  Hampton,"  she  said,  curtly. 

"Yes — that  is,  Captain  Langton  wishes  to  say  good-by  to 
you ;  he  is  leaving  Darrell  Court  this  morning. " 

There  was  the  least  possible   curl  of  the  short  upper   lip. 


WAITING  FOR  REVENGE.  213 

Lady  Hampton  happened  to  catch  the  glance  bestowed  upon 
Pauline  by  their  visitor.  For  a  moment  it  startled  her — it  re- 
vealed at  once  such  hopeless  passionate  love  and  such  strong 
passionate  hate.  Pauline  made  no  reply ;  the  queenly  young 
figure  was  drawn  up  to  its  full  height,  the  thoughtful  face  was 
full  of  scorn.  The  captain  concealed  his  embarrassment  as  he 
best  could,  and  went  up  to  her  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Darrell,"  he  said ;  "this  has  been  a  very  sad 
time  for  you,  and  I  deeply  sympathize  with  you.  I  hope  to  see 
you  again  in  the  autumn,  looking  better — more  like  yourself. " 

Lady  Hampton  was  wont  to  declare  that  the  scene  was  one  of 
the  finest  she  had  ever  witnessed.  Pauline  looked  at  him  with 
that  straight,  clear,  calm  gaze  of  hers,  so  terribly  searching  and 
direct. 

"Good-by,"  she  said,  gravely,  and  then,  utterly  ignoring  the 
outstretched  hands,  she  swept  haughtily  from  the  room. 

Lady  Hampton  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  her  delight  at  the 
captain's  discomfiture. 

"Miss  Darrell  is  very  proud,"  he  said,  laughing  to  hide  his 
confusion.  "I  must  have  been  unfortunate  enough  to  displease 
her." 

But  Lady  Hampton  saw  his  confusion,  and  in  her  own  mind 
she  wondered  what  there  was  between  these  two — why  he  should 
appear  at  the  same  time  to  love  and  to  hate  her — above  all,  why 
she  should  treat  him  with  such  sovereign  indifference  and  con- 
tempt. 


214  WAITING  FOR  REVENGE. 

"It  is  not  natural,"  she  argued  to  herself;  "young  girls,  as 
a  rule,  admire — nay,  take  an  uncommon  interest  in  soldiers. 
What  reason  can  she  have  for  such  contemptuous  indifference?" 

How  little  she  dreamed  of  the  storm  of  rage — of  passion — 
of  anger — of  love — of  fury,  that  warred  in  the  captain's  soul ! 

He  was  ten  thousand  pounds  richer,  but  it  was  as  a  drop  in 
the  ocean  to  him.  If  it  had  been  ten  thousand  per  annum  he 
might  have  been  grateful.  Ten  thousand  pounds  would  dis- 
charge every  debt  he  had  in  the  world,  and  set  him  straight 
once  more ;  he  might  even  lead  the  life  he  had  always  meant  to 
lead  for  two  or  three  years,  but  then  the  money  would  be  gone. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  that  girl — that  proud,  willful,  defiant  girl 
— would  but  have  married  him,  Darrell  Court,  with  all  its  rich 
dependencies,  would  have  been  his.  The  thought  almost  mad- 
dened him. 

How  he  loathed  her  as  he  rode  away !  But  for  her,  all  this 
grand  inheritance  would  have  been  his.  Instead  of  riding 
away,  he  would  now  be  taking  possession  and  be  lord  and  mas- 
ter of  all.  These  stables  with  the  splendid  stud  of  horses  would 
be  his — his  the  magnificent  grounds  and  gardens — the  thousand 
luxuries  that  made  Darrell  Court  an  earthly  paradise.  All  these 
would  have  been  his  but  for  the  obstinacy  of  one  girl.  Curses 
deep  and  burning  rose  to  his  lips ;  yet,  for  his  punishment,  he 
loved  her  with  a  love  that  mastered  him  in  spite  of  his  hate — 
that  made  him  long  to  throw  himself  at  her  feet,  while  he  could 
have  slain  her  for  the  wrong  he  considered  that  she  had  done 
him. 


WAITING  FOR  REVENGE.  215 

Lady  Hampton  could  not  refrain  from  a  few  remarks  on  what 
she  had  witnessed. 

' '  Has  Captain  Langton  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  offend  you, 
Miss  Darrell?"  she  asked  of  Pauline.  "I  thought  your  adieus 
were  of  the  coldest. " 

'  *  Did  you  ?"  I  never  could  see  the  use  of  expressing  regret 
that  is  not  really  felt. " 

"Perhaps  not;  but  it  is  strange  that  you  should  not  feel 
some  little  regret  at  losing  such  a  visitor." 

To  this  remark  Pauline  deigned  nothing  save  an  extra  look 
of  weariness,  which  was  not  lost  upon  Lady  Hampton. 
******* 

"Pauline,"  said  Miss  Hastings,  one  morning,  "I  do  not 
think  you  are  compelled  by  the  terms  of  Sir  Oswald's  will  to 
reside  at  Darrell  Court  whether  you  like  it  or  not.  There 
could  be  no  possible  objection  to  your  going  away  for  a 
change." 

The  beautiful,  restless  face  was  turned  to  her. 

"I  could  not  leave  Darrell  Court  even  if  I  would,"  she  re- 
turned. 

"Why  not?     There  is  really  nothing  to  detain  you  here." 

"I  am  waiting,"  said  the  girl,  her  dark  eyes  lit  by  a  fire  that 
was  not  pleasant  to  see — "I  am  waiting  here  for  my  revenge." 

"Oh,  Pauline!"  cried  Miss  Hastings,  in  real  distress.  "My 
dear  child,  you  must  forget  such  things.  I  do  not  like  to  hear 
such  a  word  from  your  lips. " 


2i6  WAITING  FOR  REVENGE. 

Pauline  smiled  as  she  looked  at  her  governess,  but  there  was 
something  almost  terrible  in  the  calm  smile. 

"What  do  you  think  I  am  living  here  for — waiting  here  in 
patience  for?  I  tell  you,  nothing  but  the  vengeance  I  have 
promised  myself— and  it  shall  be  mine  I" 


WILL  FA  TE  AID  PA  ULINE?  2 1 7 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

WILL    FATE    AID    PAULINE? 

Six  months  had  passed  since  Sir  Oswald's  death,  and  his 
widow  had  already  put  away  her  cap  and  heavy  weeds.  Six 
months  of  retirement,  she  considered,  were  a  very  handsome 
acknowledgment  of  all  her  husband's  love  and  kindness.  She 
was  in  a  state  of  serene  and  perfect  self-content — everything  had 
gone  well  with  her.  People  had  expressed  their  admiration  of 
her  devotion  to  his  memory.  She  knew  that  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world  she  was  esteemed  faultless.  And  now  it  seemed  to  Lady 
Darrell  that  the  time  was  come  in  which  she  might  really  enjoy 
herself,  and  reap  the  reward  of  her  sacrifice. 

The  "armed  neutrality"  between  Pauline  and  herself  still 
continued.  Each  went  her  own  way — their  interests  never 
clashed.  Lady  Darrell  rather  preferred  that  Pauline  should  re- 
main at  the  Court.  She  had  a  vague  kind  of  fear  of  her,  a 
vague  dread  that  made  her  feel  safer  where  Pauline  was,  and 
where  she  could  know  something  of  her.  Whole  days  would 
pass  without  their  meeting ;  but,  now  that  there  was  to  be  a  lit- 


2 1 8  WILL  FA  TE  AID  PA  ULINE? 

tie  more  gayety  at  Darrell  Court,  the  two  must  expect  to  be 
brought  into  daily  communication. 

Lady  Darrell  was  an  amiable  woman.  It  was  true  she  had  a 
small  soul,  capable  of  maintaining  small  ideas  only.  She 
would  have  liked  to  be  what  she  called  "comfortable"  with 
Pauline — to  live  on  sisterly  terms  with  her — to  spend  long  hours 
in  discussing  dress,  ornaments,  fashionable  gossip — to  feel  that 
there  was  always  some  one  at  hand  to  listen  to  her  and  to  amuse 
her.  She,  in  her  turn,  would  have  been  most  generous.  She 
would  have  made  ample  presents  of  dresses  and  jewels  to  such 
a  friend;  she  would  have  studied  her  comfort  and  interests. 
But  to  expect  or  to  hope  for  a  companion  of  that  kind  in  Pau- 
line was  as  though  some  humble  little  wood-blossom  could 
hope  to  train  itself  round  a  grand,  stately,  sad  passion-flower. 

Lady  DarreH's  worldly  knowledge  and  tact  were  almost  per- 
fect; yet  they  could  never  reveal  to  her  the  depths  of  a  noble 
nature  like  Pauline's.  She  could  sooner  have  sounded  the 
depths  of  the  Atlantic  than  the  grand  deep  of  that  young  girl's 
heart  and  soul ;  they  would  always  be  dead  letters  to  her — mys- 
teries she  could  not  solve.  One  morning  the  impulse  was 
strong  upon  her  to  seek  Pauline,  to  hold  a  friendly  conversation 
with  her  as  to  half-mourning ;  but  when  she  reached  the  door 
of  the  study  her  courage  gave  way,  and  she  turned  abruptly, 
feeling  rather  than  knowing  why  the  discussion  of  dress  and 
mere  personal  appearance  must  prove  distasteful  to  Miss 
Darrell. 

Little  by  little  Lady  Darrell  began  to  take  her  place  in  the 


WILL  FA  TE  AID  PA  ULINE?  2 1 9 

grand  world ;  she  was  too  wise  and  wary  to  do  it  all  at  once. 
The  degrees  were  almost  imperceptible  ;  even  Lady  Hampton, 
one  of  the  most  fastidious  of  critics,  was  obliged  to  own  to  her- 
self that  her  niece's  conduct  was  highly  creditable.  The  grada- 
tion's in  Lady  DarreH's  spirits  were  as  carefully  regulated  as  the 
gradations  of  color  in  her  dress ;  with  deep  lavender  and  black 
ribbons  she  was  mildly  sorrowful,  the  lighter  grew  the  lavender 
the  lighter  grew  her  heart.  On  the  first  day  she  wore  a  silver 
gray  brocade  she  laughed  outright,  and  the  sound  of  that  laugh 
was  the  knell  of  all  mourning. 

Visitors  began  to  arrive  once  more  at  Darrell  Court,  but  Lady 
Darrell  still  exercised  great  restraint  over  herself.  Her  invita- 
tions were  at  first  confined  to  matrons  of  mature  age.  "She 
did  not  feel  equal  to  the  society  of  gentlemen  yet. " 

There  was  a  grand  chorus  of  admiration  for  the  nice  feeling 
Lady  Darrell  displayed.  Then  elderly  gentlemen — husbands 
of  the  matrons — were  admitted ;  and,  after  a  time,  ' '  braw  woo- 
ers began  to  appear  at  the  hall,"  and  then  Lady  Darrell's  reign 
began  in  real  earnest. 

From  these  admiring  matrons,  enthusiastic  gentlemen,  ardent 
lovers,  and  flattering  friends  Pauline  stood  aloof.  How.she  de- 
spised the  whole  of  them  was  to  be  gathered  only  from  her  face  ; 
slie  never  expressed  it  in  words.  She  did  not  associate  with 
tliem,  and  they  repaid  her  behavior  by  the  most  hearty  dislike. 

It  was  another  proof  of  "dear  Lady  Darrell's  sweet  temper" 
that  she  could  live  in  peace  with  this  haughty,  abrupt,  willful 
girl.  No  one  guessed  that  the  bland,  amiable,  suave,  graceful 


220  WILL  FATE  AID  PAULINE? 

mistress  of  Darrell  Court  stood  in  awe  of  the  girl  who  had  been 
disinherited  to  make  way  for  her. 

"Pauline/'  said  Miss  Hastings,  one  day,  "I  want  you  to  ac- 
custom yourself  to  the  idea  of  leaving  Darrell  Court ;  for  I  do 
not  think  there  is  any  doubt  but  that  sooner  or  later  Lady  Dar- 
rell will  marry  again." 

' '  I  expect  it, "  she  returned.  ' '  Poor  Sir  Oswald  !  His  home 
will  go  to  strangers,  his  name  be  extinct.  How  little  he  fore- 
saw this  when  he  married  \" 

' '  Let  it  take  place  when  it  may,  the  Court  can  be  no  home 
for  you  then,"  continued  Miss  Hastings. 

Pauline  raised  her  hand  with  a  warning  gesture. 

" Do  not  say  another  word,  Miss  Hastings;  I  cannot  listen. 
Just  as  criminals  were  fastened  to  the  rack,  bound  to  the  wheel, 
tied  to  the  stake,  I  am  bound  here — awaiting  my  revenge  I" 

"Oh,  Pauline,  if  you  would  but  forego  such  strange  speech  ! 
This  longing  for  vengeance  is  in  your  heart  like  a  deadly  canker 
in  a  fair  flower.  It  will  end  badly." 

The  beautiful  face  with  its  defiant  light  was  turned  toward 
her. 

"Do- not  attempt  to  dissuade  me,"  she  said.  "Your  warn- 
ing is  useless,  and  I  do  not  like  to  grieve  you.  I  acquainted 
Lady  Darrell  with  my  determination  before  she  married  my 
uncle  for  his  money.  She  persisted  in  doing  it.  Let  her  take 
the  consequences — bear  the  penalty.  If  she  had  acted  a  true 
womanly  part — if  she  had  refused  him,  as  she  ought  to  have 
done — he  would  have  had  time  for  reflection,  he  would  not 


WILL  FA  TE  AID  PA  ULINE?  2  2 1 

have  disinherited  me  in  his  anger,  and  Darrell  Court  would 
have  descended  to  a  Darrell,  as  it  ought  to  have  done." 

"If  you  could  but  forget  the  past,  Pauline !" 

' '  I  cannot — it  is  part  of  my  life  now.  I  saw  two  lives  before 
me  once — the  one  made  noble,  grand,  and  gracious  by  this  in- 
heritance, which  I  should  have  known  so  well  how  to  hold ;  the 
other  darkened  by  disappointment  and  shadowed  by  revenge. 
You  know  how  some  men  wait  for  the  fair  fruition  of  a  fair 
hope — for  the  dawn  of  success — for  the  sunshine  of  perfect 
prosperity ;  so  do  I  wait  for  my  revenge.  We  Darrells  never  do 
things  by  halves;  we  are  not  even  moderate.  My  heart,  my 
soul,  my  life — which  might  have  been,  I  grant,  filled  with  high 
impulses — are  concentrated  on  revenge. " 

Though  the  words  she  spoke  were  so  terrible,  so  bitter,  there 
was  no  mean,  vindictive,  or  malign  expression  on  that  beautiful 
face ;  rather  was  it  bright  with  a  strange  light.  Mistaken 
though  the  idea  might  be,  Pauline  evidently  deemed  herself  one 
chosen  to  administer  justice. 

Miss  Hastings  looked  at  her. 

"But,  Pauline,"  she  said,  gravely,  "who  made  you  Lady 
Darrell's  judge?" 

"Myself,"  she  replied.  "Miss  Hastings,  you  often  speak  of 
justice ;  let  me  ask,  was  this  matter  fair?  My  uncle  was  irritated 
against  me  because  I  would  not  marry  a  man  I  detested  and 
loathed ;  in  his  anger  he  formed  the  project  of  marriage  to  pun- 
ish me.  He  proposed  to  Elinor  Rocheford,  and,  without  any 
love  for  him,  she  agreed  to  marry  him.  I  went  to  her,  and 


222  WILL  FATE  AID  PAULINE? 

warned  her  not  to  come  between  me  and  my  rightful  inherit- 
ance. I  told  her  that  if  she  did  I  would  be  revenged.  She 
laughed  at  my  threat,  married  my  uncle,  and  so  disinherited 
me.  Now,  was  it  fair  that  I  should  have  nothing,  she  all — that 
I,  a  Darrell,  should  see  the  home  of  my  race  go  to  strangers  ? 
It  is  not  just,  and  I  mean  to  take  justice  into  my  hands. " 

"But,  Pauline,"  opposed  Miss  Hastings,  "if  Lady  Darrell 
had  not  accepted  Sir  Oswald,  some  one  else  would. " 

"Are  such  women  common,  then?"  she  demanded,  passion- 
ately. "I  knew  evil  enough  of  your  world,  but  I  did  not  know 
this.  This  woman  is  sweet-voiced,  her  face  is  fair,  her  hair  is 
golden,  her  hands  are  white  and  soft,  her  manners  caressing 
and  gentle;  but  you  see  her  soul  is  sordid — it  was  not  large 
enough  to  prevent  her  marrying  an  old  man  for  his  money. 
Something  tells  me  that  the  vengeance  I  have  promised  myself 
is  not  far  off." 

Miss  Hastings  wrung  her  hands  in  silent  dismay. 

"Oh,  for  something  to  redeem  you,  Pauline — something  to 
soften  your  heart,  which  is  hardening  into  sin  !" 

"I  do  not  know  of  any  earthly  influence  that  could,  as  you 
say,  redeem  me.  I  know  that  I  am  doing  wrong.  Do  not 
think  that  I  have  transformed  vice  into  virtue  and  have  blinded 
myself.  I  know  that  some  people  can  rise  to  a  far  grander 
height;  they  would,  instead  of  seeking  vengeance,  pardon  in- 
juries. I  cannot — I  never  will.  There  is  no  earthly  influence 
that  can  redeem  me,  because  there  is  none  stronger  than  my 
own  will. " 


WILL  FATE  AID  PAULINE?  223 

The  elder  lady  looked  almost  hopelessly  at  the  younger  one. 
How  was  she  to  cope  with  this  strong  nature — a  nature  that 
could  own  a  fault,  yet  by  strength  of  will  persevere  in  it?  She 
felt  that  she  might  as  well  try  to  check  the  angry  waves  of  the 
rising  tide  as  try  to  control  this  willful,  undisciplined  disposi- 
tion. 

How  often  in  after  years  these  words  returned  to  her  mind  : 
"I  know  of  no  earthly  influence  stronger  than  my  own  will." 

Miss  Hastings  sat  in  silence  for  some  minutes,  and  then  she 
looked  at  the  young  girl. 

"What  shape  will  your  vengeance  take,  Pauline?"  she  asked, 
calmly. 

"I  do  not  know.  Fate  will  shape  it  for  me ;  my  opportunity 
will  come  in  time." 

"Vengeance  is  a  very  high-sounding  word,"  observed  Miss 
Hastings,  "but  the  thing  itself  generally  assumes  very  prosaic 
forms.  You  would  not  descend  to  such  a  vulgar  deed  as  mur- 
der, for  instance ;  nor  would  you  avail  yourself  of  anything  so 
commonplace  as  poison. " 

"No,"  replied  Pauline,  with  contempt;  those  are  mean  re- 
venges. I  will  hurt  her  where  she  has  hurt  me — where  all  the 
love  of  her  heart  is  garnered ;  there  will  I  wound  her  as  she  has 
wounded  me.  Where  she  can  feel  most  there  I  mean  to  strike, 
and  strike  home. " 

"Then  you  have  no  definite  plan  arranged?"  questioned  Miss 
Hastings. 


224  WILL  FATE  AID  PA ULINE? 

"Fate  will  play  into  my  hands  when  the  time  comes/'  replied 
Pauline.  Nor  could  the  governess  extract  aught  further  from 
her. 


FATE  FA  VORS  PAULINE.  225 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

FATE      FAVORS      PAULINE. 

Autumn,  with  its  golden  grain,  its  rich  fruits,  and  its  luxuri- 
ant foliage,  had  come  and  gone ;  then  Christmas  snow  lay  soft 
and  white  on  the  ground ;  and  still  Captain  Langton  had  not 
paid  his  promised  visit  to  Darrell  Court.  He  sent  numerous 
cards,  letters,  books,  and  music,  but  he  did  not  appear  himself 
Once  more  the  spring  flowers  bloomed ;  Sir  Oswald  had  been 
lying  for  twelve  months  in  the  cold,  silent  family  vault.  With 
the  year  of  mourning  the  last  of  Lady  DarreH's  gracefully  ex- 
pressed sorrow  vanished — the  last  vestige  of  gray  and  lavender, 
of  jet  beads  and  black  trimmings,  disappeared  from  her  dresses; 
and  then  she  shone  forth  upon  the  world  in  all  the  grace  and 
delicate  loveliness  of  her  fair  young  beauty. 

Who  could  number  her  lovers  or  count  her  admirers  ?  Old 
and  young,  peer  and  commoner,  there  was  not  one  who  would 
not  have  given  anything  he  had  on  earth  to  win  the  hand  of  the 
beautiful  and  wealthy  young  widow. 

Lady  Hampton  favored  the  suit  of  Lord  Aynsley,  one  of  the 
wealthiest  peers  in  England.  He  had  met  Lady  Darrell  while 


226  FA  TE  FA  VORS  PA  ULINE. 

on  a  visit  at  the  Elms,  and  was  charmed  with  her.  So  young, 
fair,  gifted,  accomplished,  so  perfect  a  mistress  of  every  art  and 
grace,  yet  so  good  and  amiable — Lord  Aynsley  thought  that  he 
had  never  met  with  so  perfect  a  woman  before. 

Lady  Hampton  was  delighted. 

' '  I  think,  Elinor, "  she  said,  ' '  that  you  are  one  of  the  most 
fortunate  of  women.  You  have  a  chance  now  of  making  a  sec- 
ond and  most  brilliant  marriage.  I  think  you  must  have  been 
born  under  a  lucky  star. " 

Lady  Darrell  laughed  her  soft,  graceful  little  laugh. 

"I  think,  auntie,"  she  returned,  "that,  as  I  married  the  first 
time  to  please  you,  I  may  marry  now  to  please  myself  and  my 
own  heart." 

"Certainly,"  said  her  ladyship,  dubiously;  "but  remember 
what  I  have  always  told  you — sentiment  is  the  ruin  of  every- 
thing. " 

And,  as  Lady  Hampton  spoke,  there  came  before  her  the 
handsome  face  of  Aubrey  Langton.  She  prayed  mentally  that 
he  might  not  appear  again  at  Darrell  Court  until  Lord  Aynsley 
had  proposed  and  had  been  accepted. 

But  Fate  was  not  kind  to  her. 

The  next  morning  Lady  Darrell  received  a  letter  from  the 
captain,  saying  that,  as  the  summer  was  drawing  near,  he  should 
be  very  glad  to  pay  his  long-promised  visit  to  Darrell  Court. 
He  hoped  to  be  with  them  on  Thursday  evening. 

Lady  Darrell's  fair  face  flushed  as  she  read.  He  was  coming, 
then,  this  man  who  above  all  others  had  taken  her  fancy  captive 


FATE  FA  VORS  PAULINE.  227 

— this  man  whom,  with  all  her  worldly  scheming,  she  would 
have  married  without  money  if  he  had  but  asked  her.  He  was 
coming,  and  he  would  see  her  in  all  the  glory  of  her  prosperity. 
He  would  be  almost  sure  to  fall  in  love  with  her ;  and  she — 
well,  it  was  not  the  first  time  that  she  whispered  to  her  own 
heart  how  gladly  she  would  love  him.  She  was  too  excited  by 
her  pleasant  news  to  be  quite  prudent.  She  must  have  a  con- 
fidante— she  must  tell  some  one  that  he  was  coming. 

She  went  to  the  study,  where  Miss  Hastings  and  Pauline  were 
busily  engaged  with  some  water-colors.  She  held  the  open  let- 
ter in  her  hand. 

"Miss  Hastings,  I  have  news  for  you,"  she  said.  "I  know 
that  all  that  interested  Sir  Oswald  is  full  of  interest  for  you. 
Pauline,  you  too  will  be  pleased  to  hear  that  Captain  Langton 
is  coming.  Sir  Oswald  loved  him  very  much. " 

Pauline  knew  that,  and  had  cause  to  regret  it. 

"I  should  be  much  pleased/'  continued  Lady  Darrell,  "if, 
without  interfering  with  your  arrangements,  you  could  help  me 
to  entertain  him." 

Miss  Hastings  looked  up  with  a  smile  of  assent. 

"Anything  that  lies  in  my  power,"  she  said,  "I  shall  be  only 
too  happy  to  do  ;  but  I  fear  I  shall  be  rather  at  a  loss  how  to 
amuse  a  handsome  young  officer  like  Captain  Langton. " 

Lady  Darrell  laughed,  but  looked  much  pleased. 

"You  are  right,"  she  said — "he  is  handsome.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  have  ever  seen  one  more  handsome. " 

Then  she  stopped  abruptly,  for  she  caught  the  gleam  of  Pau- 


228  FATE  FA  VORS  PA ULINE. 

line's  scornful  smile — the  dark  eyes  were  looking  straight  at  her. 
Lady  Darrell  blushed  crimson,  and  the  smile  on  Pauline's  lips 
deepened. 

"I  see  my  way  now,"  she  said  to  herself.  "Time,  fate,  and 
opportunity  will  combine  at  last. " 

"And  you,  Pauline,"  inquired  Lady  Darrell,  in  her  most 
caressing  manner — "you  will  help  me  with  my  visitor — will  you 
not?" 

' '  Pardon  me,  I  must  deline, "  answered  Miss  Darrell. 

"Why,  I  thought  Captain  Langton  and  yourself  were  great 
friends!"  cried  Lady  Darrell. 

' '  I  am  not  answerable  for  your  thoughts,  Lady  Darrell, "  said 
Pauline. 

"But  you — you  sing  so  beautifully !  Oh,  Pauline,  you  must 
help  me !"  persisted  Lady  Darrell. 

She  drew  nearer  to  the  girl,  and  was  about  to  lay  one  white 
jeweled  hand  on  her  arm,  but  Pauline  drew  back  with  a  haughty 
gesture  there  was  no  mistaking. 

"Pray  understand  me,  Lady  Darrell,"  she  said — "all  arts 
and  persuasions  are,  as  you  know,  lost  on  me.  I  decline  to  do 
anything  toward  entertaining  your  visitor,  and  shall  avoid  him 
as  much  as  possible." 

Lady  Darrell  looked  up,  her  face  pale,  and  with  a  frightened 
look  upon  it. 

"Why  do  you  speak  so,  Pauline?  You  must  have  some 
reason  for  it.  Tell  me  what  it  is." 


FA TE  FA  VORS  PA ULINE.  229 

No  one  had  ever  heard  Lady  Darrell  speak  so  earnestly 
before. 

"Tell  me!"  she  repeated,  and  her  very  heart  was  in  the 
words. 

"Pardon  me  if  I  keep  my  counsel/'  said  Pauline.  "There 
is  wisdom  in  few  words. " 

Then  Miss  Hastings,  always  anxious  to  make  peace,  said : 

"Do  not  be  anxious,  Lady  Darrell;  Pauline  knows  that 
some  of  the  unpleasantness  she  had  with  Sir  Oswald  was  owing 
to  Captain  Langton.  Perhaps  that  fact  may  affect  her  view  of 
his  character. " 

Lady  Darrell  discreetly  retired  from  the  contest. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  both  do  all  you  can, "  she  said,  in  her 
most  lively  manner.  "We  must  have  some  charades,  and  a 
ball;  we  shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  talk  this  over  when  our 
guests  arrive.""  And,  anxious  to  go  before  Pauline  said  any- 
thing more,  Lady  Darrell  quitted  the  room. 

"My  dear  Pauline,"  said  Miss  Hastings,  "if  you  would " 

But  she  paused  suddenly,  for  Pauline  was  sitting  with  a  rapt 
expression  on  her  face,  deaf  to  every  word. 

Such  a  light  was  in  those  dark  eyes,  proud,  triumphant,  and 
clear — such  a  smile  on  those  curved  lips;  Pauline  looked  as 
though  she  could  see  into  futurity,  and  as  though,  while  the 
view  half  frightened,  it  pleased  her. 

Suddenly  she  rose  from  her  seat,  with  her  hands  clasped,  evi- 
dently forgetting  that  she  was  not  alone. 


23o  FA  TE  FA  VORS  PA  ULINE. 

" Nothing  could  be  better,"  she  said.  "I  could  not  have 
asked  of  fate  or  fortune  anything  better  than  this. " 

When  Miss  Hastings,  wondering  at  her  strange,  excited  man- 
ner, asked  her  a  question,  she  looked  up  with  the  vague  manner 
of  one  just  aroused  from  deep  sleep. 

' '  What  are  you  thing  of,  Pauline  ?"  asked  Miss  Hastings. 

"I  am  thinking,"  she  replied,  with  a,dreamy  smile,  "what 
good  fortune  always  attends  those  who  know  how  to  wait.  I 
have  waited,  and  what  I  desired  is  come. " 

Thursday  came  at  last.  Certainly  Lady  Darrell  had  spared 
neither  time  nor  expense  in  preparing  for  her  visitor ;  it  wa^ 
something  like  a  warrior's  home-coming — the  rarest  of  wines, 
the  fairest  of  flowers,  the  sweetest  of  smiles  awaiting  him. 
Lady  DarreH's  dress  was  the  perfection  of  good  taste — plain 
white  silk  trimmed  with  black  lace,  with  a  few  flowers  in  her 
golden  hair.  She  knew  that  she  was  looking  her  best ;  it  was 
the  first  time  that  the  captain  had  seen  her  in  her  present 
position,  so  she  was  anxious  to  make  the  most  favorable  impres- 
sion on  him. 

"Welcome  once  more  to  Darrell  Court!"  she  said,  holding 
out  one  white  hand  in  greeting. 

' '  It  seems  like  a  welcome  to  Paradise, "  said  the  captain,  pro- 
fanely ;  and  then  he  bowed  with  the  grace  of  a  Chesterfield  over 
the  little  hand  that  he  still  held  clasped  in  his  own. 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON  A CCEPTED.  231 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

CAPTAIN  LANGTON  ACCEPTED. 

Lady  Darrell  was  obliged  to  own  herself  completely  puzzled. 
All  the  girls  she  had  ever  known  had  not  only  liked  admiration, 
but  had  even  sought  it ;  she  could  not  understand  why  Pauline 
showed  such  decided  aversion  to  Captain  Langton.  He  was 
undeniably  handsome,  graceful,  and  polished  in  manner;  Lady 
Darrell  could  imagine  no  one  more  pleasant  or  entertaining. 
Why  should  Pauline  show  such  great  distaste  for  his  society, 
and  such  avoidance  of  him  ? 

There  were  times,  too,  when  she  could  not  quite  understand 
Aubrey  Langton.  She  had  seen  him  look  at  Pauline  with  an 
expression  not  merely  of  love,  but  with  something  of  adoration 
in  his  eyes ;  and  then  again  she  would  be  startled  by  a  look  of 
something  more  fierce  and  more  violent  even  than  hate.  She 
herself  was  in  love  with  him  ;  nor  was  she  ashamed  to  own  the 
feet  even  to  herself.  She  could  let  her  heart  speak  now — its 
voice  had  been  stifled  long  enough ;  still  she  would  have  liked 
to  know  the  cause  of  Pauline's  avoidance  of  him. 


232  CAPTAIN  LANGTON  A CCEPTED. 

On  the  second  day  of  his  visit  Lady  Darrell  gave  a  grand 
dinner-party.  Lady  Hampton,  who  viewed  the  captain's  arrival 
with  great  disfavor,  was,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  be  present. 
All  the  neighbors  near  were  invited,  and  Pauline,  despite  her 
dislike,  saw  that  she  must  be  present. 

Lady  Darrell  took  this  opportunity  of  appearing,  for  the  first 
time  since  Sir  Oswald's  death,  en  grande  toilette.  She  wore  a 
dress  of  blue  brocade,  a  marvel  of  color  and  weaving,  embroid- 
ered with  flowers,  the  very  delicacy  of  which  seemed  to  attract 
notice.  She  wore  the  Darrell  diamonds,  her  golden  head  being 
wreathed  with  a  tiara  of  precious  stones.  She  looked  marvel- 
ously  bright  and  radiant ;  her  face  was  flushed  with  the  most 
delicate  bloom,  her  eyes  were  bright  with  happiness.  The 
guests  remarked  to  each  other  how  lovely  their  young  hostess 
was. 

But  when  Pauline  entered  the  room,  Lady  Darrell  was 
eclipsed,  even  as  the  light  of  the  stars  is  eclipsed  by  that  of  the 
sun.  Pauline  wore  no  jewels ;  the  grand  beauty  of  her  face 
and  figure  required  none.  The  exquisite  head  and  graceful, 
arched  neck  rose  from  the  clouds  of  gray  tulle  like  some  superb 
flower  from  the  shade  of  its  leaves ;  her  dress  was  low,  showing 
the  white  neck  and  statuesque  shoulders ;  the  dark,  clustering 
hair  was  drawn  back  from  the  noble  brow,  a  pomegranate  blos- 
som glowing  in  the  thick  coils.  Graceful  and  dignified  she 
looked,  without  glitter  of  jewels  or  dress — simple,  perfect  in 
the  grandeur  of  her  own  loveliness. 

She  was  greatly  admired;  young  men  gazed  at  her  from  a 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON  A CCEPTED.  233 

listance  with  an  expression  almost  of  infatuation,  while  the 
adies  whispered  about  her ;  yet  no  one  had  the  courage  to  pay 
ter  any  great  attention,  from  the  simple  fact  that  Lady  Hamp- 
on  had  insinuated  that  the  young  widow  did  not  care  much 
,bout  Miss  Darrell.  Some  felt  ill  at  ease  in  her  presence ;  her 
>roud,  dark  eyes  seemed  to  detect  every  little  false  grace  and 
.ffectation,  all  paltry  little  insincerities  seemed  to  be  revealed  to 
ler. 

Yet  Pauline  on  this  occasion  did  her  best.  Despite  Sir  Os- 
vald's  false  judgment  of  her,  there  was  an  innate  refinement 
ibout  her,  and  it  showed  itself  to-night.  She  talked  principally 
o  old  Lady  Percival,  who  had  known  her  mother,  and  who 
>rofessed  and  really  felt  the  most  profound  liking  and  affection 
or  Pauline;  they  talked  during  dinner  and  after  dinner,  and 
hen,  seeing  that  every  one  was  engaged,  and  that  no  one  was 
ikely  to  miss  her,  Pauline  slipped  from  the  room  and  went 

)Ut. 

She  gave  a  long  sigh  of  relief  as  she  stood  under  the  broad, 
iree  sky;  flowers  and  birds,  sunshine  and  shade,  the  cool, 
ragrant  gloaming,  were  all  so  much  more  beautiful,  so  much 
nore  to  her  taste,  than  the  warm,  glittering  rooms.  In  the 
voods  a  nightingale  was  singing.  What  music  could  be  com- 
pared to  this?  The  white  almond  blossoms  were  falling  as  she 
arent  down  to  the  lakeside,  where  her  dreams  were  always 
iairest. 

' '  I  wonder, "  mused  the  girl,  ' '  why  the  world  of  nature  is  so 
air,  and  the  world  of  men  and  women  so  stupid  and  so  inane." 


234  CAPTAIN  LANGTON  A CCEPTED. 

"Pauline,"  said  a  voice  near  her,  "I  have  followed  you;  I 
could  not  help  doing  so." 

She  turned  hastily,  and  saw  Captain  Langton,  his  face 
flushed,  his  eyes  flaming  with  a  light  that  was  not  pleasant  to 
see. 

"How  have  you  dared  to  do  so?"  she  demanded. 

"I  dare  do  anything,"  he  replied,  "for  you  madden  me. 
Do  you  hear?  You  madden  me  !" 

She  paid  no  more  heed  to  his  words  than  she  did  to  the  hum- 
ming of  the  insects  in  the  grass. 

"You  shall  hear  me !"  he  cried.  "You  shall  not  turn  away 
your  haughty  head !  Look  at  me — listen  to  me,  or  I  will " 

"Or  you  will  murder  me,"  she  interrupted.  "It  will  not  be 
the  first  time  you  have  used  that  threat.  I  shall  neither  look  at 
you  nor  listen  to  you. " 

"Pauline,  I  swear  that  you  are  driving  me  mad.  I  love  you 
so  dearly  that  my  life  is  a  torment,  a  torture  to  me ;  yet  I  hate 
you  so  that  I  could  almost  trample  your  life  out  under  my  feet. 
Be  merciful  to  me.  I  know  that  I  may  woo  and  win  this  glit- 
tering widow.  I  know  that  I  may  be  master  of  Darrell  Court — 
she  has  let  me  guess  that  much — but,  Pauline,  I  would  rather 
marry  you  and  starve  than  have  all  the  world  for  my  own. " 

She  turned  to  him,  erect  and  haughty,  her  proud  face  flush- 
ing, her  eyes  so  full  of  scorn  that  their  light  seemed  to  blind 
him.  * 

"I did  not  think,"  she  said,  "that  you  would  dare  to  address 
such  words  to  me.  If  I  had  to  choose  this  instant  between 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON  A CCEPTED.  235 

death  and  marrying  you,  I  would  choose  death.  I  know  no 
words  in  which  I  can  express  my  scorn,  my  contempt,  my  loath- 
ing for  you.  If  you  repeat  this  insult,  it  will  be  at  your  peril. 
Be  warned. " 

"You  are  a  beautiful  fiend  !"  he  hissed.  "You  shall  suffer 
for  your  pride !" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  calmly;  "go  and  marry  Lady  Darrell.  I 
have  vowed  to  be  revenged  upon  her;  sweeter  vengeance  I 
could  not  have  than  to  stand  by  quietly  while  she  marries  you. " 

"You  are  a  beautiful  fiend  !"  he  hissed  again,  his  face  white 
with  rage,  his  lips  dry  and  hot. 

Pauline  turned  away,  and  he  stood  with  deeply  muttered  im- 
precations on  his  lips. 

"I  love  her  and  I  hate  her,"  he  said;  "I  would  take  her  in 
my  arms  and  carry  her  away  where  no  one  in  the  world  could 
see  her  beautiful  face  but  myself.  I  could  spend  my  whole  life 
in  worshiping  her — yet  I  hate  her.  She  has  ruined  me — I  could 
trample  her  life  out.  'Go  and  marry  Lady  Darrell/  she  said; 
I  will  obey  her. " 

He  returned  to  the  house.  No  one  noticed  that  his  face  was 
paler  than  usual,  that  his  eyes  were  shadowed  and  strange ;  no 
one  knew  that  his  breath  came  in  hot  gasps,  and  that  his  heart 
beat  with  great  irregular  throbs. 

"I  will  woo  Lady  Darrell  and  win  her,"  he  said,  "and  then 
Pauline  shall  suffer. " 

What  a  contrast  that  graceful  woman,  with  her  fair  face  and 
caressing  manner,  presented  to  the  girl  he  had  just  left,  with 


236  CAPTAIN  LANGTON  ACCEPTED. 

her  passionate  beauty  and  passionate  scorn !  Lady  Darrell 
looked  up  at  him  with  eyes  of  sweetest  welcome. 

"You  have  been  out  in  the  grounds/'  she  said,  gently;  "the 
evening  is  very  pleasant. " 

"Did  you  miss  me,  Lady  Darrell — Elinor?"  he  asked,  bend- 
ing over  her  chair. 

He  saw  a  warm  blush  rising  in  her  cheeks,  and  in  his  heart 
he  felt  some  little  contempt  for  the  conquest  so  easily  made. 

"Did  you  miss  me,  Elinor?"  he  repeated.  "You  must  let 
me  call  you  Elinor — I  think  it  is  the  sweetest  name  in  all  the 
world." 

It  was  almost  cruel  to  trifle  with  her,  for,  although  she  was 
conventional  to  the  last  degree,  and  had  but  little  heart,  still 
what  heart  she  had  was  all  his.  It  was  so  easy  to  deceive  her, 
too ;  she  was  so  ready  to  believe  in  him  and  love  him  that  her 
misplaced  affection  was  almost  pitiable.  She  raised  her  blue 
eyes  to  his;  there  was  no  secret  in  them  for  him. 

"I  am  very  glad  my  name  pleases  you,"  she  said ;  "I  never 
cared  much  for  it  before." 

"But  you  will  like  it  now?"  he  asked;  and  then  bending 
over  her  chair,  he  whispered  something  that  sent  a  warm,  rosy 
flush  over  her  face  and  neck. 

Every  one  noticed  the  attention  he  paid  her ;  Lady  Hampton 
saw  it,  and  disliked  him  more  than  ever.  Lord  Aynsley  saw  it, 
and  knew  that  all  hope  of  winning  the  beautiful  widow  was  over 
for  him.  People  made  their  comments  upon  it,  some  saying  it 
would  be  an  excellent  match,  for  Sir  Oswald  had  been  much 


CAPTAIN  LANGTON  ACCEPTED.  237 

attached  to  Captain  Langton,  others  thinking  that  Lady  Darrell, 
with  her  fair  face  and  her  large  fortune,  might  have  done  better. 
There  was  something,  too,  in  the  captain's  manner  which  puz- 
zled simple-hearted  people — something  of  fierce  energy,  which 
all  the  softness  of  word  and  look  could  not  hide. 

''There  is  not  much  doubt  of  what  will  be  the  next  news 
from  Darrell  Court, "  said  one  to  another. 

No  one  blamed  the  young  widow  for  marrying  again,  but 
'there  was  a  general  expression  of  disappointment  that  she  had 
not  done  better. 

Those  dwelling  in  the  house  foresaw  what  was  about  to  take 
place.  Aubrey  Langton  became  the  widow's  shadow.  Wher- 
ever she  went  he  followed  her ;  he  made  love  to  her  with  the 
most  persevering  assiduity,  and  it  seemed  to  be  with  the  energy 
of  a  man  who  had  set  himself  a  task  and  meant  to  go  through 
with  it 

He  also  assumed  certain  airs  of  mastership.  He  knew  that 
he  had  but  to  speak  one  word,  and  Darrell  Court  would  be  his. 
He  spoke  in  a  tone  of  authority,  and  the  servants  had  already 
begun  to  look  upon  him  as  their  master. 

Silent,  haughty,  and  reserved,  Pauline  Darrell  stood  aside 
and  watched — watched  with  a  kind  of  silent  triumph  which 
filled  Miss  Hastings  with  wonder — watched  and  spoke  no  word 
— allowed  her  contempt  and  dislike  to  be  seen  in  every  action, 
yet  never  uttered  one  word — watched  like  a  beautiful,  relentless 
spirit  of  fate. 

Throughout  the  bright,  long  summer  months  Aubrey  Lang- 


238  CAPTAIN  LANGTON  ACCEPTED. 

ton  staid  on  at  Darrell  Court,  and  at  last  did  what  he  intended 
to  do — proposed  to  Lady  Darrell.  He  was  accepted.  It  was 
the  end  of  July  then,  but,  yielding  to  her  regard  for  appear- 
ances, it  was  agreed  that  no  further  word  should  be  said  of  mar- 
riage until  the  spring  of  the  following  year. 


'/  HA  VE  HAD  MY  REVENGE/" 


239 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"I    HAVE    HAD    MY    REVENGE!" 

It  was  a  warm,  beautiful  morning,  with  a  dull  haze  lying  over 
the  fair  summer  earth ;  and  Pauline  Darrell,  finding  even  the 
large,  airy  rooms  too  warm,  went  out  to  seek  her  favorite  shade 
— the  shelter  of  the  great  cedar  tree.  As  she  sat  with  her  book 
in  her  hand — of  which  she  never  turned  a  page — Miss  Hastings 
watched  her,  wondering  at  the  dark  shadow  that  had  fallen  over 
her  beauty,  wondering  at  the  concentration  of  thought  in  her 
face,  wondering  whether  this  shadow  of  disappointment  would 
darken  all  her  life  or  if  it  would  pass  away,  wondering  if  the 
vengeance  to  which  she  had  vowed  herself  was  planned  yet ; 
and  to  them,  so  silent  and  absorbed,  came  the  pretty,  bright 
vision  of  Lady  Darrell,  wearing  a  white  morning  dress  with  blue 
ribbons  in  her  golden  hair.  The  brightness  and  freshness  of 
the  morning  seemed  to  linger  on  her  fair  face,  as  she  drew  near 
them  with  a  smile  on  her  lips,  and  a  look  of  half-proud  shyness 
in  her  eyes. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  both  here,"  she  said;   "I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you. "    The  blush  and  the  smile  deepened.     ' '  Per- 


240  "/  HA  VE  HAD  MY  REVENGE!" 

haps  you  can  guess  what  it  is.  Miss  Hastings,  you  are  smiling 
— Pauline,  you  do  not  look  at  me.  Captain  Langton  has  asked 
me  to  be  his  wife,  and  I  have  consented. " 

Then  she  paused.  Miss  Hastings  congratulated  her,  and 
wished  her  much  happiness.  Pauline  started  at  first,  clasping 
her  hands  while  her  face  grew  white,  and  then  she  recovered 
herself  and  kept  perfect  silence. 

''Pauline/'  said  Lady  Darrell,  "I  am  very  happy;  do  not 
shadow  my  happiness.  Will  you  not  wish  me  joy  ?" 

"I  cannot,"  replied  the  girl,  in  a  trembling  voice ;  "you  will 
have  no  joy. " 

Then,  seeing  Lady  DarreH's  wondering  face,  she  seemed  to 
recover  herself  more  completely. 

"I  will  wish  you,"  she  said,  bitterly,  "as  much  happiness  as 
you  deserve. " 

"That  would  be  but  little,"  returned  Lady  Darrell,  with  a 
faint  laugh;  "I  do  not  hold  myself  a  particularly  deserving 
person. " 

Then  Miss  Hastings,  thinking  they  might  come  to  a  better 
understanding  alone,  went  away,  leaving  them  together. 

Lady  Darrell  went  up  to  the  girl.  She  laid  her  hands  on  her 
arm  appealingly,  and  raised  her  face  with  a  pleading  expression. 

"Pauline,"  she  said,  her  lips  trembling  with  emotion,  "after 
all,  I  was  your  uncle's  wife;  for  his  sake  you  might  show  me  a 
little  kindness.  Marriage  is  a  tie  for  life,  not  a  bond  for  one 
day.  Oh,  Pauline,  Pauline,  if  there  is  any  reason  why  I  should 
not  marry  Aubrey  Langton,  tell  it — for  Heaven's  sake,  tell  it ! 


"/  HA  VE  HAD  MY  REVENGE!"  241 

Your  manner  is  always  so  strange  to  him ;  if  you  know  any- 
thing against  him,  tell  me  now  before  it  is  too  late — tell  me!" 

There  fell  over  them  a  profound  silence,  broken  only  by  the 
sweet,  cheery  music  of  a  bird  singing  in  the  cedar  tree,  and  the 
faint  sighing  of  the  wind  among  the  leaves. 

"Tell  me,  for  Heaven's  sake!"  repeated  Lady  Darrell,  her 
grasp  tightening  on.  Pauline's  arm. 

"I  have  nothing  to  tell,"  was  the  curt  reply.  "Pray  do  not 
hold  my  arm  so  tightly,  Lady  Darrell ;  I  have  nothing  to  tell. " 

"Do  not  deceive  me — there  must  be  some  reason  for  your 
strange  manner.  Tell  it  to  me  now,  before  it  is  too  late." 

There  was  almost  an  agony  of  pleading  in  her  face  and  voice, 
but  Pauline  turned  resolutely  away,  leaving  her  beneath  the 
cedar  alone. 

"I  must  be  mistaken,"  Lady  Darrell  thought.  "What  can 
she  know  of  him  ?  I  must  be  wrong  to  doubt  him  ;  surely  if  I 
doubt  him  I  shall  doubt  Heaven  itself.  It  is  her  manner — her 
awkward  manner — nothing  more." 

And  she  tried  her  best  to  dismiss  all  thoughts  of  Pauline  from 
her  mind,  and  give  herself  to  her  newly-found  happiness. 

"Pauline,"  said  Miss  Hastings,  sorrowfully,  when  she  re- 
joined the  girl,  "I  cannot  understand  you." 

"I  do  not  quite  understand  myself,"  returned  Miss  Darrell. 
"I  did  not  think  I  had  any  weakness  or  pity  in  my  heart,  but  I 
find  it  is  there." 

' '  You  frighten  me, "  said  Miss  Hastings.  ' '  What  makes  you 
so  strange?  O,  Pauline,  throw  it  off,  this  black  shadow  that 


242  "7  HA  VE  HAD  MY  REVENGE!" 

envelopes  you,  and  forget  this  idea  of  vengeance  which  has  so 
completely  changed  you !" 

She  looked  up  with  a  smile — a  hard,  bitter  smile. 

4 '  I  shall  have  had  my  revenge, "  she  said,  gloomily,  ' '  when 
she  has  married  him. " 

Nor  could  any  entreaties,  any  prayers  of  the  kind-hearted 
woman  move  her  to  say  more. 

Whether  the  mysterious  and  uncertain  aspect  of  things  preyed 
upon  Miss  Hastings'  mind,  whether  she  grieved  over  her  pupil 
and  allowed  that  grief  to  disturb  her,  was  never  revealed,  but  in 
the  month  of  August  she  became  seriously  ill — not  ill  enough 
to  be  obliged  to  keep  her  room,  but  her  health  and  her  strength 
failed  her,  and  day  by  day  she  became  weaker  and  less  able  to 
make  any  exertion. 

Lady  Darrell  sent  for  Doctor  Helmstone,  and  he  advised  Miss 
Hastings  to  go  to  the  sea-side  at  once,  and  to  remain  there  dur- 
ing the  autumn.  At  her  earnest  request  Pauline  consented  to 
accompany  her. 

"The  change  will  do  you  good  as  well  as  myself,"  said  the 
anxious  lady ;  and  Miss  Darrell  saw  that  she  was  thinking  how 
much  better  it  would  be  that  she  should  leave  Darrell  Court. 

"I  will  go/'  she  said.  "  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  of. 
My  vengeance  is  nearly  accomplished.  There  is  no  reason  now 
why  I  should  remain  here." 

After  many  consultations  it  was  agreed  that  they  should  go  to 
the  pretty  little  watering-place  called  Omberleigh.  Many  things 
recommended  it ;  the  coast  was  sheltered,  the  scenery  beautiful, 


"7  HA  VE  HAD  MY  REVENGE!"  243 

the  little  town  itself  very  quiet,  the  visitors  were  few  and  of  the 
higher  class.  It  was  not  possible  to  find  a  prettier  spot  than 
Omberleigh. 

Lady  Darrell  was  generosity  itself.  In  her  quiet,  amiable 
way  she  liked  Miss  Hastings  as  well  as  she  was  capable  of  liking 
any  one.  She  insisted  upon  making  all  kinds  of  arrangements 
for  the  governess — she  was  to  have  every  comfort,  every  luxury. 

' 'And  you  must  do  nothing,"  she  said,  in  her  most  caressing 
manner,  "but  try  to  get  well.  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  look- 
ing quite  young  and  blooming  when  you  return. " 

Lady  Darrell  had  already  written  to  Omberleigh,  rand,  through 
an  agent  there,  had  secured  beautiful  apartments.  When  Miss 
Hastings  half  remonstrated  with  her,  she  laughed. 

"I  have  nothing  to  do,"  she  said,  "but  make  every  one 
happy;  and  it  is  my  duty  to  find  you  always  a  comfortable 
home." 

Lady  Darrell  looked,  as  she  was  in  those  days,  a  most  happy 
woman.  She  seemed  to  have  grown  younger  and  fairer.  The 
height  of  her  ambition,  the  height  01  her  happiness,  was  reached 
at  last.  She  was  rich  in  the  world's  goods,  and  it  was  in  her 
power  to  make  the  man  she  loved  rich  and  powerful  too.  She 
wr.:,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  pleasing  her  own  heart ;  and 
happiness  made  her  more  tender,  more  amiable,  more  consid- 
erate and  thoughtful  for  others. 

Lady  Hampton  mourned  over  the  great  mistake  her  niece 
was  making.  She  had  whispered  in  confidence  to  all  her  dear 
friends  that  Elinor  was  really  going  to  throw  herself  away  on  the 


244  "/  HA  VE  HAD  MY  REVENGE!" 

captain  after  all.  It  was  such  a  pity,  she  said,  when  Lord 
Aynsley  was  so  deeply  in  love  with  her, 

"But  then,"  she  concluded,  with  a  sigh,  "it  is  a  matter  in 
which  I  cannot  interfere/' 

Yet,  looking  at  ,Lady  Darrell's  bright,  happy  face,  she  could 
not  quite  regret  the  captain's  existence. 

"You  will  not  be  lonely,  Lady  Darrell,"  said  Miss  Hastings, 
the  evening  before  her  journey. 

She  never  forgot  the  light  that  spread  over  the  fair  young  face 
— the  intense  happiness  that  shone  in  the  blue  eyes. 

"No,"  she  returned,  with  a  sigh  of  unutterable  content,  "I 
shall  never  be  lonely  again.  I  have  thoughts  and  memories 
that  keep  my  heart  warm — all  loneliness  or  sorrow  is  over  for 
me." 

On  the  morrow  Miss  Darrell  and  the  governess  were  to  go  to 
Omberleigh,  but  the  same  night  Lady  Darrell  went  to  Pauline's 
room. 

"I  hope  you  will  excuse  me,"  she  said,  when  the  girl  looked 
up  in  haughty  surprise.  ' '  I  want  to  say  a  few  words  to  you  be- 
fore you  go. " 

The  cool,  formal  terms  on  which  they  lived  were  set  aside, 
and  for  the  first  time  Lady  Darrell  visited  Pauline  in  her  room. 

"I  want  to  ask  you  one  great  favor,"  continued  Lady  Darrell. 
"Will  you  promise  me  that  Miss  Hastings  shall  not  want  for 
anything  ?  She  is  far  from  strong. " 

"I  shall  consider  Miss  Hastings  my  own  especial  charge," 
said  Pauline. 


"7  HA  VE  HAD  MY  REVENGE  I" 


245 


"But  you  must  allow  me  to  help  you.  I  have  a  very  great 
affection  for  her,  and  desire  nothing  better  than  to  prove  it  by 
kind  actions." 

"Miss  Hastings  would  be  very  grateful  to  you  if  she  knew 
it,"  said  Pauline. 

"'But  I  do  not  want  her  to  be  grateful.  I  do  not  want  her 
to  know  anything  about  it.  With  all  her  gentleness,  Miss  Hast- 
ings has  an  independence  quite  her  own — an  independence  that 
I  respect  greatly ;  but  it  is  quite  possible,  you  know,  Pauline, 
to  manage  an  invalid — to  provide  good  wine  and  little  delica- 
cies. " 

"I  will  do  all  that  myself,"  observed  the  young  girl. 

Lady  Darrell  went  nearer  to  her. 

"Pauline/'  she  said,  gently,  "you  have  always  repelled  every 
effort  of  mine ;  you  would  not  be  friends  with  me.  But  now, 
dear — now  that  I  am  so  much  happier,  that  I  have  no  cloud  in 
my  sky  save  the  shadow  of  your  averted  face — be  a  little  kinder 
to  me.  Say  that  you  forgive  me,  if  I  have  wronged  you. " 

"You  have  wronged  me,  Lady  Darrell,  and  you  know  it 
For  me  to  talk  of  forgiveness  is  only  a  farce;  it  is  too  late  for 
that.  I  have  had  my  revenge  !" 

Lady  Darrell  looked  up  at  her  with  a  startled  face. 

"What  is  that  you  say,  Pauline?" 

"I  repeat  it,"  said  the  girl,  huskily — "I  have  had  my  re- 
venge !" 

"What  can  you  mean?  Nothing  of  moment  has  happened 
to  me.  You  are  jesting,  Pauline. " 


246  "7  HA  VE  HAD  MY  REVENGE!" 

"It  would  be  well  for  you  if  I  were,"  said  the  girl;  ''but  I 
tell  you  in  all  truth  I  have  had  my  revenge  1" 

And  those  words  sounded  in  Lady  DarreH's  ears  long  after 
Pauline  had  left  Darrell  Court. 


THE  STRANGER  ON  THE  SANDS.  247 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE    STRANGER    ON    THE    SANDS. 

The  tide  was  coming  in,  the  sun  setting  over  the  sea;  the 
crimson  and  golden  light  seemed  to  be  reflected  in  each  drop  of 
water  until  the  waves  were  one  mass  of  heaving  roseate  gold ;  a 
sweet  western  wind  laden  with  rich,  aromatic  odors  from  the 
pine  woods  seemed  to  kiss  the  waves  as  they  touched  the  shore 
and  broke  into  sheets  of  beautiful  white  foam.  It  was  such  a 
sunset  and  such  a  sea — such  a  calm  and  holy  stillness.  The 
golden  waters  stretched  out  as  far  and  wide  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  The  yellow  sands  were  clear  and  smooth  ;  the  cliffs  that 
bounded  the  coast  were  steep  and  covered  with  luxuriant  green 
foliage.  Pauline  Darrell  had  gone  to  the  beach,  leaving  Miss 
Hastings,  who  already  felt  much  better,  to  the  enjoyment  of  an 
hour's  solitude. 

There  was  a  small  niche  in  one  of  the  rocks,  and  the  young 
girl  sat  down  in  it,  with  the  broad,  beautiful  expanse  of  water 
spread  out  before  her,  and  the  shining  waves  breaking  at  her 
feet.  She  had  brought  a  book  with  her,  but  she  read  little ; 
the  story  did  not  please  her  The  hero  of  it  was  too  perfect. 


248  THE  STRANGER  ON  THE  SANDS. 

With  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  golden,  heaving  expanse  of  water, 
she  was  thinking  of  the  difference  between  men  in  books  and 
men  in  real  life.  In  books  they  were  all  either  brave  or  vicious 
— either  very  noble  or  very  base. 

She  passed  in  review  all  the  men  she  had  ever  known,  begin- 
ning with  her  kind-hearted,  genial  father,  the  clever  humorist 
artist,  who  could  define  a  man's  character  in  an  epigram  so 
skillfully.  He  was  no  hero  of  romance ;  he  liked  his  cigar,  his 
"glass/'  and  his  jest.  She  thought  of  all  his  rugged,  pictur- 
esque artist-comrades,  blunt  of  speech,  honest  of  heart,  open- 
handed,  generous,  self-sacrificing  men,  who  never  envied  a  com- 
rade's prosperity,  nor  did  even  their  greatest  enemy  an  evil 
turn;  yet  they  were -not  heroes  of  romance.  She  thought  of 
Sir  Oswald — the  stately  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  who  had 
held  his  name  and  race  so  dear,  yet  had  made  so  fatal  an  error 
in  his  marriage  and  will.  She  thought  of  the  captain,  hand- 
some and  polished  in  manner,  and  her  face  grew  pale  as  she  re- 
membered him.  She  thought  of  Lord  Aynsley,  for  whom  she 
had  a  friendly  liking,  not  unmixed  with  wonder  that  he  could 
so  deeply  love  the  fair,  soft-voiced,  inane  Lady  Darrell. 

Then  she  began  to  reflect  how  strange  it  was  that  she  had 
lived  until  now,  yet  had  never  seen  a  man  whom  she  could 
love.  Her  beautiful  lips  curled  in  scorn  as  she  thought  of  it. 

"If  ever  I  love  any  one  at  all,"  she  said  to  herself,  "it  must 
be  some  one  whom  I  feel  to  be  my  master.  I  could  not  love  a 
man  who  was  weak  in  body,  soul,  heart,  or  mind.  I  must  feel 
that  he  is  my  master;  that  my  soul  yields  to  his;  that  I  can 


THE  STRANGER  ON  THE  SANDS.  249 

look  up  to  him  as  the  real  guiding  star  of  my  life,  as  the  guide 
of  my  actions.  If  ever  I  meet  such  a  man,  and  row  to  love 
him,  what  will  my  love  do  for  me  ?  I  do  not  think  I  could  fall 
in  love  with  a  book-hero  either ;  they  are  too  coldly  perfect.  I 
should  like  a  hero  with  some  human  faults,  with  a  touch  of 
pride  capable  of  being  roused  into  passion. " 

Suddenly,  as  the  thought  shaped  itself  in  her  mind,  she  saw 
a  tall  figure  crossing  the  sands— the  figure  of  a  man,  walking 
quickly. 

He  stopped  at  some  little  distance  from  the  cliff,  and  then 
threw  himself  on  the  sand.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  restless, 
beautiful  sea ;  and  she,  attracted  by  his  striking  masculine  beau- 
ty, the  statuesque  attitude,  the  grand,  free,  grace  of  the  strong 
limbs,  the  royal  carriage  of  the  kingly  head,  watched  him.  In 
the  Louvre  she  had  seen  some  marvelous  statues,  and  he  re- 
minded her  of*  them.  There  was  one  of  Antinous,  with  a 
grand,  noble  face,  a  royal  head  covered  with  clusters  of  hair, 
and  the  stranger  reminded  her  of  it. 

She  looked  at  him  in  wonder,  She  had  seen  picturesque- 
looking  men — dandies,  fops — but  this  was  the  first  time  she  had 
ever  seen  a  noble  and  magnificent-looking  man. 

"If  his  soul  is  like  his  face,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "he  is  a 
hero." 

She  watched  him  quite  unconsciously,  admiration  gradually 
entering  her  heart. 

"I  should  like  to  hear  him  speak,"  she  thought  "I  know 
just  what  kind  of  voice  ought  to  go  with  that  face." 


250  THE  STRANGER  ON  THE  SANDS. 

It  was  a  dreamy  spot,  a  dreamy  hour,  and  he  was  all  uncon- 
scious of  her  presence.  The  face  she  was  watching  was  like 
some  grand,  harmonious  poem  to  her ;  and  as  she  so  watched 
there  came  to  her  the  memory  of  the  story  of  Lancelot  and 
Elaine.  The  restless  golden  waters,  the  yellow  sands,  the  cliffs, 
all  faded  from  her  view,  and  she,  with  her  vivid  imagination, 
saw  before  her  the  castle  court  where  Elaine  first  saw  him,  lifted 
her  eyes  and  read  his  lineaments,  and  then  loved  him  with  a 
love  that  was  her  doom.  The  face  on  which  she  gazed  was 
marked  by  no  great  and  guilty  love — it  was  the  face  of  Lancelot 
before  his  fall,  when  he  shone  noblest,  purest,  and  grandest  of 
all  King  Arthur's  knights. 

"It  was  for  his  face  Elaine  loved  him,"  thought  the  girl — 
"grand  and  noble  as  is  the  face  on  which  the  sun  shines  now." 

Then  she  went  through  the  whole  of  that  marvelous  story  ; 
she  thought  of  the  purity,  the  delicate  grace,  the  fair  loveliness 
of  Elaine,  as  contrasted  with  the  passionate  love  which,  flung 
back  upon  itself,  led  her  to  prefer  death  to  life — of  that  strange, 
keen,  passionate  love  that  so  suddenly  changed  the  whole  world 
for  the  maid  of  Astolat. 

"And  I  would  rather  be  like  her,"  said  the  girl  to  herself; 
"I  would  rather  die  loving  the  highest  and  the  best  than  live 
loving  one  less  worthy. " 

It  had  seized  her  imagination,  this  beautiful  story  of  a  death- 
less love. 

( ' I  too  could  have  done  as  Elaine  did,"  she  thought;  "for 
love  cannot  come  to  me  wearing  the  guise  it  wears  to  others.  I 


THE  STRANGER  ON  THE  SANDS.  251 

could  read  the  true  nobility  of  a  man's  soul  in  his  face ;  I  could 
love  him,  asking  no  love  in  return.  I  could  die  so  loving  him, 
and  believing  him  greatest  and  best. " 

Then,  as  she  mused,  the  sunlight  deepened  on  the  sea,  the 
rose  became  purple,  the  waters  one  beaming  mass  of  bright 
color,  and  he  who  had  so  unconsciously  aroused  her  sleeping 
soul  to  life  rose  and  walked  away  over  the  sands.  She  watched 
him  as  he  passed  out  of  sight. 

"I  may  never  see  him  again,"  she  thought;  "but  I  shall  re- 
member his  face  until  I  die. " 

A  great  calm  seemed  to  fall  over  her ;  the  very  depths  of  her 
heart  had  been  stirred.  She  had  been  wondering  so  short  a 
time  before  if  she  should  ever  meet  any  one  at  all  approaching 
the  ideal  standard  of  excellence  she  had  set  up  in  her  mind.  It 
seemed  like  an  answer  to  her  thoughts  when  he  crossed  the 
sands. 

' '  I  may  never  see  him  again, "  she  said ;  ' '  but  I  shall  always 
remember  that  I  have  met  one  whom  I  could  have  loved." 

She  sat  there  until  the  sun  had  set  over  the  waters  and  the 
moon  had  risen ;  and  all  the  time  she  saw  before  her  but  one 
image — the  face  that  had  charmed  her  as  nothing  in  life  had 
ever  done  before.  Then,  startled  to  find  that  it  had  grown  so 
late,  she  rose  and  crossed  the  sands.  Once  she  turned  to  look 
at  the  sea,  and  a  curious  thought  came  to  her  that  there,  by  the 
side  of  the  restless,  shining  waters,  she  had  met  her  fate.  Then 
she  tried  to  laugh  at  the  notion. 

' '  To  waste  one's  whole  heart  in  loving  a  face, "  she  thought, 


252  THE  STRANGER  ON  THE  SANDS. 

"would  be  absurd.     Yet  the  sweetest  of  all  heroines — Elaine 
—did  so." 

A  great  calm,  one  that  lulled  her  brooding  discontent,  that 
stilled  her  angry  despair,  that  seemed  to  raise  her  above  the 
earth,  that  refined  and  beautified  every  thought,  was  upon  her. 
She  reached  home,  and  Miss  Hastings,  looking  at  the  beautiful 
face  on  which  she  had  never  seen  so  sweet  an  expression,  so 
tender  a  light  before,  wondered  what  had  come  over  her.  So, 
too,  like  Elaine — 

All  night  his  face  before  her  lived, 
and  the  face  was 

Dark,  splendid,  sparkling  in  the  silence,  full 
Of  noble  things. 

All  unconsciously,  all  unknowingly,  the  love  had  come  to 
her  that  was  to  work  wonders — the  love  that  was  to  be  her  re- 
demption. 


THE  STORY  OF  ELAINE.  253 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE      STORY      OF      ELAINE. 

Miss  Hastings  laid  down  the  newspaper,  with  a  quick  glance 
of  pleased  surprise. 

"I  am  glad  that  I  came  to  Omberleigh,"  she  said.  "Im- 
agine, Pauline,  who  is  here.  You  have  heard  me  speak  of  the 
St.  Lawrences.  I  educated  Laura  St.  Lawrence,  and  she  mar- 
ried well  and  went  to  India.  Her  husband  holds  a  very  high 
appointment  there.  Lady  St.  Lawrence  is  here  with  her  son, 
Sir  Vane.  I  am  so  pleased. " 

"And  lam  pleased  for  you,"  responded  Pauline,  with  the 
new  gentleness  that  sat  so  well  upon  her. 

"I  must  go  and  see  them,"  continued  Miss  Hastings. 
"They  are  staying  at  Sea  View.  We  can  soon  find  out  where 
Sea  View  is." 

"St.  Lawrence!"  said  Pauline,  musingly;  "I  like  the  name; 
it  has  a  pleasant  sound. " 

"  They  are  noble  people  who  bear  it, "  observed  Miss  Hast- 
ings. "Lady  St.  Lawrence  was  always  my  ideal  of  a  thorough- 
bred English  gentlewoman.  I  never  heard  how  it  was,  but  the 


254  THE  STORY  OF  ELAINE. 

greater  part  of  their  fortune  was  lost  when  Sir  Arthur  died.  He 
left  but  this  one  son,  Vane ;  and,  although  he  has  the  title,  he 
has  but  little  to .  support  it  with.  I  know  their  family  estates 
were  all  sold.  Lady  St.  Lawrence  has  a  small  fortune  of  her 
own ;  but  it  is  not  much. " 

Again  Pauline  repeated  the  name  to  herself — "Vane  St.  Law- 
rence !" — thinking  there  was  a  sound  as  of  half-forgotten  music 
in  it.  That  was  a  name  that  would  have  suited  the  face  she 
had  watched  on  the  sands. 

"Vane  St.  Lawrence!" 

Unconsciously  to  herself  she  had  said  the  words  aloud.  Miss 
Hastings  looked  up  quickly. 

"Did  you  speak,  my  dear?"  she  asked;  and  Pauline  won- 
dered to  find  her  face  suddenly  grow  warm  with  a  burning 
blush. 

"I  think,"  said  Miss  Hastings,  presently,  "that  I  should  like 
to  visit  them  at  once.  Lady  St.  Lawrence  may  not  be  staying 
long,  and  I  should  never  forgive  myself  if  I  were  to  miss  her. 
Will  you  come  with  me,  Pauline  ?" 

"Yes,  willingly." 

She  was  ready  to  go  anywhere,  to  do  anything,  with  that 
great,  wonderful  love,  that  great,  grand  calm,  filling  her  heart 
and  soul. 

For  the  first  time  the  sight  of  her  own  magnificent  loveliness 
pleased  her. 

"I  may  see  him  again,"  she  thought  to  herself  with  almost 
child-like  simplicity,  "and  I  should  like  him  to  think  of  me." 


THE  STORY  OF  ELAINE.  255 

She  took  more  pains  than  she  had  ever  taken  before ;  and  the 
picturesque  taste  that  was  part  of  her  character  greatly  assisted 
her.  Her  dress  was  of  purple  silk,  plain,  rich,  and  graceful ; 
her  hat,  with  its  drooping  purple  plume,  looked  like  a  crown 
on  the  beautiful  head.  She  could  no  more  help  looking  royal 
and  queenly  than  she  could  help  the  color  of  her  eyes  and  hair. 
Miss  Hastings  looked  up  with  a  smile  of  surprise,  the  proud 
face  was  so  wonderfully  beautiful — the  light  that  never  yet  shone 
on  land  or^ea  was  shining  on  it. 

"Why,  Pauline,"  she  said,  laughing,  "Lady  St.  Lawrence 
will  think  I  am  taking  the  Queen  of  Sheba  in  disguise !  What 
strange  change  is  coming  over  you,  child?" 

What  indeed  ?  Was  it  the  shadow  of  the  love  that  was  to  re- 
deem her — to  work  wonders  in  her  character  ?  Was  it  the  light 
ffiat  came  from  the  half-awakening  soul  ?  Wiser  women  than 
good,  kindly,  simple-hearted  Miss  Hastings  might  have  been 
puzzled. 

They  were  not  long  in  finding  Sea  View — a  pretty  villa  a  little 
way  out  of  the  town,  standing  at  the  foot  of  a  cliff,  surrounded 
by  trees  and  flowers — one  of  the  prettiest  spots  in  Omberleigh. 
They  were  shown  into  the  drawing-room,  the  windows  of  which 
commanded  a  magnificent  view  of  the  sea. 

Before  they  had  been  there  many  minutes  there  entered  a 
fair,  gentle,  gracious  lady,  whose  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she 
greeted  Miss  Hastings  warmly. 

"You  are  like  a  spirit  from  the  past/'  she  said.     "I  can  see 


256  THE  STORY  OF  ELAINE. 

Laura  a  little  child  again  as  I  look  at  you.     Nothing  could 
have  pleased  me  so  much  as  seeing  you. " 

Then  she  looked  admiringly  at  the  beautiful  girl  by  her  side. 
Miss  Hastings  introduced  her. 

| 

"Miss  Darrell,"  she  said,  "it  seems  strange  that  I  should 
meet  you.  My  husband  in  his  youth  knew  Sir  Oswald  well. " 

Lady  St.  Lawrence  was  just  what  Miss  Hastings  had  described 
her — a  thoroughly  high-bred  English  lady.  In  figure  she  was 
tall  and  upright ;  her  face  had  been  beautiful  in  its  youth,  and 
was  even  now  comely  and  fair ;  the  luxuriant  brown  hair  was 
streaked  here  and  there  with  silver.  She  wore  a  dress  of  rich 
brocade,  with  some  becoming  arrangement  of  flowers  and  lace 
on  her  head ;  she  was  charming  in  her  lady-like  simplicity  and 
gentleness. 

Pauline,  knowing  that  the  two  ladies  would  have  much  to 
talk  about,  asked  permission  to  amuse  herself  with  some  books 
she  saw  upon  the  table. 

"They  belong  to  my  son/'  said  Lady  St.  Lawrence,  with  a 
smile. 

There  were  Tennyson,  Keats,  and  Byron,  and  written  inside 
of  each,  in  a  bold,  clear  hand,  was  the  name  "Vane  St.  Law- 
rence. "  Pauline  lost  herself  again  in  the  sweet  story  of  Elaine, 
from  which  she  was  aroused  at  intervals  by  the  repetition  of  the 
words — ' '  My  son  Vane. " 

She  could  not  help  hearing  some  part  of  Lady  St.  Lawrence's 
confidential  communication,  and  it  was  to  the  effect  how  deeply 
she  deplored  the  blindness  of  her  son,  who  might  marry  his 


THE  STORY  OF  ELAINE.  257 

cousin  Lillith  Davenant,  one  of  the  wealthiest  heiresses  in  Eng- 
land. Miss  Hastings  was  all  kindly  sympathy. 

" It  would  be  such  an  excellent  thing  for  him,"  continued 
Lady  St.  Lawrence;  "and  Lillith  is  a  very  nice  girl.  But  it  is 
useless  counseling  him;  Vane  is  like  his  father.  Sir  Arthur, 
you  know,  always  would  have  his  own  way. " 

Pauline  began  to  feel  interested  in  this  Vane  St.  Lawrence, 
who  refused  to  marry  the  wealthy  heiress  because  he  did  not 
love  her. 

"He  must  be  somewhat  like  me,"  she  said  to  herself  with  a 
smile. 

Then  the  conversation  changed,  and  Lady  St.  Lawrence  be- 
gan to  speak  of  her  daughter  Laura  and  her  children.  Pauline 
returned  to  Elaine,  and  soon  forgot  everything  else. 

She  was  aroused  by  a  slight  stir.  She  heard  Lady  St  Law- 
rence say : 

"My  dear  Vane,  how  you  startled  me  !" 

Looking  up,  she  saw  before  her  the  same  face  that  had  en- 
grossed her  thoughts  and  fancy ! 

She  was  nearer  to  it  now,  and  could  see  more  plainly  the  ex- 
quisite refinement  of  the  beautiful  mouth,  the  clear,  ardent  ex- 
pression of  the  bold,  frank  eyes,  the  gracious  lines  of  the  clus- 
tering hair.  Her  heart  seemed  almost  to  stand  still — it  was 
though  she  had  suddenly  been  brought  face  to  face  with  a 
phantom. 

He  was  bending  over  Lady  St.  Lawrence,  talking  eagerly  to 
her — he  was  greeting  Miss  Hastings  with  much  warmth  and 


258  THE  STORY  OF  ELAINE. 

cordiality.  Pauline  had  time  to  recover  herself  before  Lady  St. 
Lawrence  remembered  her.  She  had  time  to  still  the  wild 
beating  of  her  heart — to  steady  her  trembling  lips — but  the  flush 
was  still  on  her  beautiful  face  and  the  light  in  her  eyes  when  he 
came  up  to  her. 

Lady  St.  Lawrence  spoke,  but  the  words  sounded  to  Pauline 
as  though  they  came  from  afar  oif ;  yet  they  were  very  simple. 

"Miss  Darrell,"  she  said,  "let  me  introduce  my  son  to  you." 

Then  she  went  back  to  Miss  Hastings,  eager  to  renew  the 
conversation  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  her  son. 

What  did  Sir  Vane  see  in  those  dark  eyes  that  held  him  cap- 
tive? What  was  looking  at  him  through  that  most  beautiful 
face  ?  What  was  it  that  seemed  to  draw  his  heart  and  soul  from 
him,  never  to  become  his  own  again  ?  To  any  other  stranger 
he  would  have  spoken  indifferent  words  of  greeting  and  wel- 
come; to  this  dark-eyed  girl  he  could  say  nothing.  When 
souls  have  spoken,  lips  have  not  much  to  say. 

They  were  both  silent  for  some  minutes ;  and  then  Sir  Vane 
tried  to  recover  himself.  What  had  happened  to  him  ?  What 
strange,  magic  influence  was  upon  him?  Ten  minutes  since 
he  had  entered  that  room  heart-whole,  fancy-free,  with  laughter 
on  his  lips,  and  no  thought  of  coming  fate.  Ten  minutes  had 
worked  wonders  of  change ;  he  was  standing  now  in  a  kind  of 
trance,  looking  into  the  grand  depths  of  those  dark  eyes  where- 
in he  had  lost  himself. 

They  said  but  few  words ;  the  calm  and  silence  that  fell  over 
them  during  that  first  interval  was  not  to  be  broken;  it  was 


THE  STORY  OF  ELAINE.  259 

more  eloquent  than  words.      He  sat  down  by  her  side ;  she  still 
held  the  book  open  in  her  hands.      He  glanced  at  it. 

"Elaine,"  he  said,  "do  you  like  that  story?" 

"She  told  him  "Yes,"  and,  taking  the  book  from  her  hands, 
he  read  the  noble  words  wherein  Sir  Lancelot  tells  the  Lily 
Maid  how  he  will  dower  her  when  she  weds  some  worthy 
knight,  but  that  he  can  do  no  more  for  her. 

Was  it  a  dream  that  she  should  sit  there  listening  to  those 
words  from  his  lips — she  had  fancied  him  Sir  Lancelot  without 
stain,  and  herself  Elaine  ?  There  was  a  sense  of  unreality 
about  it ;  she  would  not  have  been  surprised  at  any  moment  to 
awake  and  find  herself  in  the  pretty  drawing-room  at  Marine 
Terrace — all  this  beautiful  fairy  tale  a  dream — only  a  dream. 
The  musical  voice  ceased  at  last ;  and  it  was  to  her  as  though 
some  charm  had  been  broken. 

"Do  you  like  poetry,  Miss  Dairell?"  inquired  Sir  Vane. 

"Yes,"  she  replied;  "it  seems  to  me  part  of  myself.  I  can- 
not explain  clearly  what  I  mean,  but  when  I  hear  such  grand 
thoughts  read,  or  when  I  read  them  for  myself,  it  is  to  me  as 
though  they  were  my  own. " 

"I  understand,"  he  responded — "indeed  I  believe  that  I 
should  understand  anything  you  said.  I  could  almost  fancy 
that  I  had  lived  before,  and  had  known  you  in  another  life. " 

Then  Lady  St.  Lawrence  said  something  about  Sea  View, 
and  they  left  fairy-land  for  a  more  commonplace  sphere  of  ex- 
istence* 


260  REDEEMED  BY  LO  VE. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

REDEEMED      BY      LOVE. 

" If  anything  can  redeem  her,  it  will  be  love."  So  Miss 
Hastings  had  said  of  Pauline  long  months  ago,  when  she  had 
first  seen  her  grand  nature  warped  and  soured  by  disappoint- 
ment, shadowed  by  the  fierce  desire  of  revenge.  Now  she  was 
to  see  the  fulfillment  of  her  words. 

With  a  nature  like  Pauline's,  love  was  no  ordinary  passion ; 
all  the  romance,  the  fervor,  the  poetry  of  her  heart  and  soul 
were  aroused.  Her  love  took  her  out  of  herself,  transformed 
and  transfigured  her,  softened  and  beautified  her.  She  was  not 
of  those  who  could  love  moderately,  and,  if  one  attachment 
was  not  satisfactory,  take  refuge  in  another.  For  such  as  her 
there  was  but  one  love,  and  it  would  make  or  mar  her  life. 

Had  Sir  Vane  St.  Lawrence  been  merely  a  handsome  man 
she  would  never  have  cared  for  him ;  but  his  soul  and  mind  had 
mastered  her.  He  was  a  noble  gentleman,  princely  in  his 
tastes  and  culture,  generous,  pure,  gifted  with  an  intellect  mag- 
nificent in  itself,  and  cultivated  to  the  highest  degree  of  perfec- 
tion. The  innate  nobility  of  his  character  at  once  influenced 


REDEEMED  BY  LOVE.  261 

her.     She  acknowledged  its  superiority;  she  bowed  her  heart 
and  soul  before  it,  proud  of  the  very  chains  that  bound  her. 

How  small  and  insignificant  everything  else  now  appeared! 
Even  the  loss  of  Darrell  Court  seemed  trifling  to  her.  Life  had 
suddenly  assumed  another  aspect.  She  was  in  an  unknown 
land ;  she  was  happy  beyond  everything  that  she  had  ever  con- 
ceived or  imagined  it  possible  to  be.  It  was  a  quiet,  subdued 
happiness,  one  that  was  dissolving  her  pride  rapidly  as  the  sun- 
shine dissolves  snow — happiness  that  was  rounding  off  the 
angles  of  her  character,  that  was  taking  away  scorn  and  de- 
fiance, and  bringing  sweet  and  gracious  humility,  womanly 
grace  and  tenderness  in  their  stead. 

While  Sir  Vane  was  studying  her  as  the  most  difficult  problem 
he  had  ever  met  with,  he  heard  from  Miss  Hastings  the  story  of 
her  life.  He  could  understand  how  the  innate  strength  and 
truth  of  the  girl's  character  had  rebelled  against  polite  insinceri- 
ties and  conventional  untruths ;  he  could  understand  that  a  soul 
so  gifted,  pure,  and  eager  could  find  no  resting-place  and  no 
delight ;  he  could  understand,  too,  how  the  stately  old  baronet, 
the  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  had  been  frightened  at  his 
niece's  originality,  and  scared  by  her  uncompromising  love  of 
truth. 

Miss  Hastings,  whose  favorite  theme  in  Pauline's  absence  was 
praise  of  her,  had  told  both  mother  and  son  the  story  of  Sir 
Oswald's  project  and  its  failure— how  Pauline  would  have  been 
mistress  of  Darrell  Court  and  all  her  uncle's  immense  wealth  if 


262  REDEEMED  BY  LOVE. 

she  would  but  have  compromised  matters  and  have  married 
Aubrey  Langton. 

"Langton?"  questioned  Sir  Vane.  "I  know  him — that  is,  I 
have  heard  of  him  ;  but  I  cannot  remember  anything  more  than 
that  he  is  a  great  roue,  and  a  man  whose  word  is  never  to  be  be- 
lieved." 

"Then  my  pupil  was  right  in  her  estimate  of  his  character," 
said  Miss  Hastings.  ' '  She  seemed  to  guess  it  by  instinct.  She 
always  treated  him  with  the  utmost  contempt  and  scorn.  I 
have  often  spoken  to  her  about  it. " 

"You  may  rely  upon  it,  Miss  Hastings,  that  the  instinct  of  a 
good  woman,  in  the  opinion  she  forms  of  men,  is  never 
wrong/'  observed  Sir  Vane,  gravely;  and  then  he  turned  to 
Lady  St.  Lawrence  with  the  sweet  smile  his  face  always  wore  for 
her. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  gently,  "after  hearing  of  such  heroism 
as  that,  you  must  not  be  angry  about  Lillith  Davenant  again. " 

"That  is  a  very  different  matter,"  opposed  Lady  St.  Law- 
rence ;  but  it  seemed  to  her  son  very  much  the  same  kind  of 
thing. 

Before  he  had  known  Pauline  long  he  was  not  ashamed  to 
own  to  himself  that  he  loved  her  far  better  than  all  the  world 
beside — that  life  for  him,  unless  she  would  share  it,  was  all 
blank  and  hopeless.  She  was  to  him  as  part  of  his  own  soul, 
the  center  of  his  existence ;  he  knew  she  was  beautiful  beyond 
most  women,  he  believed  her  nobler  and  truer  than  most 


REDEEMED  BY  LO  VE.  263 

women  had  ever  been.     His  faith  in  her  was  implicit ;  he  loved 
her  as  only  noble  men  are  capable  of  loving. 

As  time  passed  on  his  influence  over  her  became  unbounded. 
Quite  unconsciously  to  herself  she* worshiped  him;  uncon- 
sciously to  herself  her  thoughts,  her  ideas,  all  took  their  color- 
ing from  his.  She  who  had  delighted  in  cynicism,  whose  beau- 
tiful lips  had  uttered  such  hard  and  cruel  words,  now  took  from 
him  a  broader,  clearer,  kinder  view  of  mankind  and  human 
nature.  If  at  times  the  old  habit  was  too  strong  for  her,  and 
some  biting  sarcasm  would  fall  from  her,  some  cold  cynical 
sneer,  he  would  reprove  her  quite  fearlessly. 

"You  are  wrong,  Miss  Darrell — quite  wrong,"  he  would  say. 
"The  noblest  men  have  not  been  those  who  sneered  at  their 
fellow-men,  but  those  who  have  done  their  best  to  aid  them. 
There  is  little  nobility  in  a  deriding  spirit. " 

And  then  her  face  would  flush,  her  lips  quiver,  her  eyes  take 
the  grieved  expression  of  a  child  who  has  been  hurt. 

"Can  I  help  it,"  she  would  say,  "when  I  hear  what  is  false?" 

"Your  ridicule  will  not  remedy  it,"  he  would  reply.  "You 
must  take  a  broader,  more  kindly  view  of  matters.  You  think 
Mrs.  Leigh  deceitful,  Mrs.  Vernon  worldly ;  but,  my  dear  Miss 
Darrell,  do  you  remember  this,  that  in  every  woman  and  man 
there  is  something  good,  something  to  be  admired,  some  grand 
or  noble  quality?  It  may  be  half-hidden  by  faults,  but  it  is 
there,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  good  we  must  tolerate  the  bad. 
No  one  is  all  bad.  Men  and  women  are,  after  all,  created  by 


2 64  REDEEMED  BY  LO  VE. 

God ;  and  there  is  some  trace  of  the  Divine  image  left  in  every 
one." 

This  was  a  new  and  startling  theory  to  the  girl  who  had 
looked  down  with  contempt  not  unmixed  with  scorn  on  her  fel- 
low-creatures— judging  them  by  a  standard  to  which  few  ever 
attain. 

"And  you  really  believe  there  is  something  good  in  every 
one  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Something  not  merely  good,  but  noble.  My  secret  convic- 
tion is  that  in  every  soul  there  is  the  germ  of  something  noble, 
even  though  circumstances  may  never  call  it  forth.  As  you 
grow  older  and  see  more  of  the  world,  you  will  know  that  I  am 
right." 

"I  believe  you  !"  she  cried,  eagerly.  "I  always  believe  every 
word  you  say!" 

Her  face  flushed  at  the  warmth  of  her  words. 

' '  You  do  me  justice, "  he  said.  ' '  I  have  faults  by  the  mil- 
lion, but  want  of  sincerity  is  not  among  them." 

So,  little  by  little,  love  redeemed  Pauline,  took  away  her 
faults,  and  placed  virtues  in  their  stead.  It  was  almost  marvel- 
ous to  note  how  all  sweet,  womanly  graces  came  to  her,  how 
the  proud  face  cleared  and  grew  tender,  how  pride  died  from 
the  dark  eyes,  and  a  glorious  love-light  came  in  its  stead,  how 
she  became  patient  and  gentle,  considerate  and  thoughtful,  al- 
ways anxious  to  avoid  giving  pain  to  others.  It  would  have 
been  difficult  for  any  one  to  recognize  the  brilliant,  willful  Pau- 


REDEEMED  BY  LO  VE.  265 

line  Darrell  in  the  loving,  quiet,  thoughtful  girl  whom  love  had 
transformed  into  something  unlike  herself. 

There  came  a  new  world  to  her,  a  new  life.  Instead  of  prob- 
lems difficult  to  solve,  life  became  full  of  sweet  and  gracious 
harmonies,  full  of  the  very  warmth  and  light  of  Heaven,  full  of 
unutterable  beauty  and  happiness;  her  soul  reveled  in  it,  her 
heart  was  filled  with  it. 

All  the  poetry,  the  romance,  had  come  true — nay,  more  than 
true.  Her  girlish  dreams  had  not  shown  her  such  happiness  as 
that  which  dawned  upon  her  now.  She  had  done  what  she  bad 
always  said  she  should  do — recognized  her  superior,  and  yielded 
full  reverence  to  him.  If  anything  had  happened  to  disenchant 
her,  if  it  had  been  possible  for  her  to  find  herself  mistaken  in 
him,  the  sun  of  the  girl's  life  would  have  set  forever,  would  have 
gone  down  in  utter  darkness,  leaving  her  without  hope. 

This  beautiful  love-idyl  did  not  remain  a  secret  long ;  per- 
haps those  most  interested  were  the  last  to  see  it.  Miss  Hast- 
ings, however,  had  watched  its  progress,  thankful  that  her 
prophecy  about  her  favorite  was  to  come  true.  Later  on  Lady 
St.  Lawrence  saw  it,  and,  though  she  could  not  help  mourning 
over  Lillith  Davenant's  fortune,  she  owned  that  Pauline  Darrell 
was  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  noble,  the  most  accomplished 
girl  she  had  ever  met.  She  had  a  moderate  fortune,  too ;  not 
much,  it  was  true  ;  yet  it  was  better  than  nothing. 

"And,  if  dear  Vane  has  made  up  his  mind,"  said  the  lady, 
meekly,  ' '  it  will,  of  course,  be  quite  useless  for  me  to  inter- 
fere." 


266  REDEEMED  BY  LO  VE. 

Sir  Vane  and  Pauline  were  always  together ;  but  hitherto  no 
word  of  love  had  been  spoken  between  them.  Sir  Vane  always 
went  to  Marine  Terrace  the  first  thing  in  the  morning ;  he  liked 
to  see  the  beautiful  face  that  had  all  the  bloom  and  freshness  of 
a  flower.  He  always  contrived  to  make  such  arrangements  as 
would  insure  that  Pauline  and  he  spent  the  morning  together. 
The  afternoon  was  a  privileged  time;  it  was  devoted  by  the 
elder  ladies,  who  were  both  invalids,  to  rest.  During  that  in- 
terval Sir  Vane  read  to  Pauline,  or  they  sat  under  the  shadow  of 
the  great  cliffs,  talking  until  the  two  souls  were  so  firmly  knit 
that  they  could  never  be  severed  again.  In  the  evening  they 
walked  on  the  sands,  and  the  waves  sang  to  them  of  love  that 
was  immortal,  of  hope  that  would  never  die — sang  of  the  sweet 
story  that  would  never  grow  old. 


PRIDE  BROUGHT  LOW.  267 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

PRIDE      BROUGHT      LOW. 

Pauline  could  have  passed  her  life  in  the  happy  dream  that 
had  come  to  her ;  she  did  not  go  beyond  it — the  golden  present 
was  enough  for  her.  The  full,  happy,  glorious  life  that  beat  in 
her  heart  and  thrilled  in  her  veins  could  surely  never  be  more 
gladsome.  She  loved  and  was  beloved,  and  her  lover  was  a 
king  among  men — a  noble,  true-hearted  gentleman,  the  very 
ideal  of  that  of  which  she  had  always  dreamed ;  she  did  not 
wish  for  any  change.  The  sunrise  was  blessed  because  it 
brought  him  to  her ;  the  sunset  was  as  dear,  for  it  gave  her  time 
to  dream  of  him.  She  had  a  secret  longing  that  this  might  go 
on  forever ;  she  had  a  shy  fear  and  almost  child-like  dread  of 
words  that  must  be  spoken,  seeing  that,  let  them  be  said  when 
they  would,  they  must  bring  a  great  change  into  her  life. 

In  this  she  was  unlike  Sir  Vane ;  the  prize  he  hoped  to  win 
seemed  to  him  so  beautiful,  so  valuable,  that  he  was  in  hourly 
dread  lest  others  should  step  in  and  try  to  take  it  from  him— 
lest  by  some  mischance  he  should  lose  that  which  his  whole 
soul  was  bent  upon  winning. 


268  PRIDE  BROUGHT  LOW. 

He  understood  the  girlish  shyness  and  sweet  fear  that  had 
changed  the  queenly  woman  into  a  timid  girl ;  he  loved  her  all 
the  more  for  it,  and  he  was  determined  to  win  her  if  she  was  to 
be  won.  Perhaps  she  read  that  determination  in  his  manner, 
for  of  late  she  had  avoided  him.  She  remained  with  Miss 
Hastings,  and,  when  that  refuge  was  denied  her,  she  sought 
Lady  St.  Lawrence;  but  nothing  could  shield  her  long. 

"Miss  Darrell,"  said  Sir  Vane,  one  afternoon,  "I  have  a 
poem  that  I  want  to  read  to  you. " 

She  was  seated  on  a  low  stool  at  Lady  St.  Lawrence's  feet, 
her  beautiful  face  flushing  at  his  words,  her  eyes  drooping  with 
shy,  sweet  pleasure  that  was  almost  fear. 

"Will  you  not  read  it  to  me  now,  and  here?"  she  asked. 

"No  ;  it  must  be  read  by  the  sea.  It  is  like  a  song,  and  the 
rush  of  the  waves  is  the  accompaniment.  Miss  Hastings,  if 
you  have  brought  up  your  pupil  with  any  notion  of  obedience, 
enforce  it  now,  please.  Tell  Miss  Darrell  to  put  on  her  hat  and 
come  down  to  the  shore. " 

Miss  Hastings  smiled. 

"You  are  too  old  now,  Pauline,  to  be  dictated  to  in  such 
matters,"  said  Miss  Hastings;  "but  if  Sir  Vane  wishes  you  to 
go  out,  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  oblige  him." 

Lady  St.  Lawrence  laid  her  hand  on  the  beautiful  head. 

"My  son  has  few  pleasures,"  she  said ;    "give  him  this  one." 

Pauline  complied.  Time  had  been  when  anything  like  a 
command  had  instantly  raised  a  spirit  of  rebellion  within  her ; 
but  in  this  clearer  light  that  had  fallen  upon  her  she  saw  things 


PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W.  269 

so  differently ;  it  was  as  though  her  soul  had  eyes  and  they  were 
just  opened. 

She  rose  and  put  on  the  pretty,  plumed  hat  which  Miss  Hast- 
ings brought  for  her ;  she  drew  an  Indian  shawl  over  her  shoul- 
ders. She  never  once  looked  at  Sir  Vane. 

"Your  goodness  is  not  only  an  act  of  charity,"  he  said,  "but 
it  is  also  a  case  in  which  virtue  will  be  its  own  reward.  You 
have  no  notion  how  beautifully  the  sun  is  shining  on  the  sea. " 

So  they  went  out  together,  and  Lady  St.  Lawrence  looked 
after  them  with  a  sigh. 

"She  is  a  most  beautiful  girl,  certainly,  and  I  admire  her.  If 
she  only  had  Lillith  Davenant's  money  1" 

Sir  Vane  and  Pauline  walked  in  silence  down  to  the  shore, 
and  then  the  former  turned  to  his  companion. 

"Miss  Darrell,"  he  said,  "will  you  tell  me  why  you  were  not 
willing  to  come  out  with  me — why  you  have  avoided  me  and 
turned  the  light  of  your  beautiful  face  from  me?" 

Her  face  flushed,  and  her  heart  beat,  but  she  made  no 
answer. 

"I  have  borne  my  impatience  well  for  the  last  three  days," 
he  said ;  "now  I  must  speak  to  you,  for  I  can  bear  it  no  longer, 
Pauline.  Oh,  do  not  turn  away  from  me !  I  love  you,  and  I 
want  you  to  be  my  wife— my  wife,  darling;  and  I  will  1m 
— I  will  cherish  you — I  will  spend  my  whole  life  in  working  for 
you.  I  have  no  hope  so  great,  so  sweet,  so  dear,  as  the  hope 
of  winning  you. " 


2 70  PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W. 

She  made  him  no  answer.  Yet  her  silence  was  more  elo- 
quent than  words. 

"It  seems  a  strange  thing  to  say,  but,  Pauline,  I  loved  you 
the  first  moment  I  saw  you.  Do  you  remember,  love?  You 
were  sitting  with  one  of  my  books  in  your  hand,  and  the  in- 
stant my  eyes  fell  upon  your  beautiful  face  a  great  calm  came 
over  me.  I  could  not  describe  it;  I  felt  that  in  that  minute 
my  life  was  completed.  My  whole  heart  went  out  to  you,  and 
I  knew,  whether  you  ever  learned  to  care  for  me  or  not,  that 
you  were  the  only  woman  in  all  the  world  for  me. " 

She  listened  with  a  happy  smile  playing  round  her  beautiful 
lips,  her  dark  eyes  drooping,  her  flower-like  face  flushed  and 
turned  from  his. 

"  You  are  my  fate — my  destiny !  Ah  !  if  you  love  me,  Pau- 
line— if  you  will  only  love  me,  I  shall  not  have  lived  in  vain ! 
Your  love  would  incite  me  to  win  name  and  fame — not  for  my- 
self, but  for  you.  Your  love  would  crown  a  king — what  would 
it  not  do  for  me  ?  Turn  your  face  to  me,  Pauline  ?  You  are 
not  angry  ?  Surely  great  love  wins  great  love — and  there  could 
be  no  love  greater  than  mine. " 

Still  the  beautiful  face  was  averted.  There  was  the  sunlight 
on  the  sea;  the  western  wind  sighed  around  them.  A  great 
fear  came  over  him.  Surely,  on  this  most  fair  and  sunny  day, 
his  love  was  not  to  meet  a  cruel  death.  His  voice  was  so  full 
of  this  fear  when  he  spoke  again  that  she,  in  surprise,  turned 
and  looked  at  him. 

"Pauline,"  he  cried,  "you  cannot  mean  to  be  cruel  to  me. 


PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W.  271 

I  am  no  coward,  but  I  would  rather  face  death  than  your  rejec- 
tion. " 

Then  it  was  that  their  eyes  met ;  and  that  which  he  saw  in 
hers  was  a  revelation  to  him.  The  next  moment  he  had 
clasped  her  to  his  heart,  and  was  pouring  out  a  torrent  of  pas- 
sionate words — such  words,  so  tender,  so  loving,  so  full  of  pas- 
sion and  hope,  that  her  face  grew  pale  as  she  listened,  and  the 
beautiful  figure  trembled. 

"I  have  frightened  you,  my  darling,"  he  said,  suddenly. 
"Ah  !  do  forgive  me.  I  was  half  mad  with  joy.  You  do  not 
know  how  I  have  longed  to  tell  you  this,  yet  feared — I  knew 
not  what — you  seemed  so  far  above  me,  sweet  See,  you  are 
trembling  now !  I  am  as  cruel  as  a  man  who  catches  in  his 
hands  a  white  dove  that  he  has  tamed,  and  hurts  it  by  his  grasp. 
Sit  down  here  and  rest,  while  I  tell  you  over  and  over  again,  in 
every  fashion,  in  every  way,  how  I  love  you. " 

The  sun  never  shone  upon  happier  lovers  than  those.  The 
golden  doors  of  Love's  paradise  were  open  to  them. 

"I  never  knew  until  now,"  said  Vane,  "how  beautiful  life  is. 
Why,  Pauline,  love  is  the  very  center  of  it ;  it  is  not  money  or 
rank— it  is  love  that  makes  life.  Only  to  think,  my  darling, 
that  you  and  I  may  spend  every  hour  of  it  together. " 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  the  fair,  calm  heavens,  and  infinite 
happiness  filled  her  soul  to  overflowing ;  a  deep,  silent  prayer 
ascended  unspoken  from  her  heart. 

Suddenly  she  sprang  from  his  side  with  a  startled  cry. 


272  PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W. 

"Oh,  Vane!"  she  said,  with  outstretched  hands,  "I  had  for- 
gotten that  I  am  unworthy.  I  can  never  marry  you  !" 

He  saw  such  wild  despair  in  her  face,  such  sudden,  keen 
anguish,  that  he  was  half  startled ;  and,  kneeling  by  her  side, 
he  asked  : 

"Why,  my  darling?  Tell  me  why.  You,  Pauline,"  he 
cried — "you  not  worthy  of  me!  My  darling,  what  fancy  is  it 
— what  foolish  idea — what  freak  of  the  imagination?  You  are 
the  noblest,  the  truest,  the  dearest  woman  in  the  whole  wide 
world !  Pauline,  why  are  you  weeping  so  ?  My  darling,  trust 
me — tell  me." 

She  had  shrunk  shuddering  from  him,  and  had  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands  ;  deep,  bitter  sobs  came  from  her  lips  ;  there 
was  the  very  eloquence  of  despair  in  her  attitude. 

"Pauline,"  said  her  lover,  "you  cannot  shake  my  faith  in 
you;  you  cannot  make  me  think  you  have  done  wrong ;  but 
will  you  try,  sweet,  to  tell  me  what  it  is?" 

He  never  forgot  the  despairing  face  raised  to  his,  the  shadow 
of  such  unutterable  sorrow  in  the  dark  eyes^  the  quivering  oi 
the  pale  lips,  the  tears  that  rained  down  her  face — it  was  such  a 
change  from  the  radiant,  happy  girl  of  but  a  few  minutes  age 
that  he  could  hardly  believe  it  was  the  same  Pauline. 

He  bent  over  her  as  though  he  would  fain  kiss  away  the  fasl 
falling  tears ;  but  she  shrank  from  him. 

"Do  not  touch  me,  Vane!"  she  cried;  "I  am  not  worthy, 
I  had  forgotten ;  in  the  happiness  of  loving  you,  and  knowing 


PRIDE  BROUGHT  LOW.  273 

that  I  was  beloved,  I  had  forgotten  it — my  own  deed  has  dis- 
honored me  !  We  must  part,  for  I  am  not  worthy  of  you." 

He  took  both  her  hands  in  his  own,  and  his  influence  over 
her  was  so  great  that  even  in  that  hour  she  obeyed  him  implicit- 
ly, as  though  she  had  been  a  child. 

"You  must  let  me  judge,  Pauline,"  he  said,  gently.  "You 
are  mine  by  right  of  the  promise  you  gave  me  a  few  minutes 
since — the  promise  to  be  my  wife;  that  makes  you  mine — no 
one  can  release  you  from  it.  By  virtue  of  that  promise  you 
must  trust  me,  and  tell  me  what  you  have  done. " 

He  saw  that  there  was  a  desperate  struggle  in  her  mind — a 
struggle  between  the  pride  that  bade  her  rise  in  rebellion  and 
leave  him  with  her  secret  untold,  and  the  love  that,  bringing 
with  it  sweet  and  gracious  humility,  prompted  her  to  confess  all 
to  him.  He  watched  her  with  loving  eyes;  as  that  struggle 
ended,  so  would  her  life  take  its  shape. 

He  saw  the  dark  eyes  grow  soft  with  good  thoughts  ;  he  saw 
the  silent,  proud  defiance  die  out  of  the  beautiful  face ;  the  lips 
quivered,  sweet  humility  seemed  to  fall  over  her  and  infold  her. 

"I  have  done  a  cruel  deed,  Vane,"  she  said — "an  act  of 
vengeance  that  cuts  me  off  from  the  roll  of  noble  women,  and 
dishonors  me. "  . 

Still  keeping  his  hold  of  the  white  hand,  he  said  : 

"Tell  me  what  it  was— I  can  judge  far  better  than  you." 

It  seemed  to  her  fevered  fancy  that  the  song  of  the  waves  died 
away,  as  though  they  were  listening ;  that  the  wind  fell  with  a 
low  sigh,  and  the  birds  ceased  their  song— a  silence  that  was 


274  PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W. 

almost  terrible  fell  around  her — the  blue  sky  seemed  nearer  to 
her. 

"Speak  to  me,  Vane  I"  she  cried  ;    "I  am  frightened  I" 

He  drew  her  nearer  to  him. 

"It  is  only  fancy,  my  darling.  When  one  has  anything 
weighty  to  say,  it  seems  as  though  earth  and  sky  were  listening. 
Look  at  me,  think  of  me,  and  tell  me  all. " 

She  could  never  remember  how  she  began  her  story — how 
she  told  him  the  whole  history  of  her  life — of  the  happy  years 
spent  with  her  father  in  the  Rue  d'Orme,  when  she  learned  to 
love  art  and  nature,  when  she  learned  to  love  truth  for  its  own 
sake,  and  was  brought  up  amid  those  kindly,  simple-hearted 
artist  friends,  with  such  bitter  scorn,  such  utter  contempt  of  all 
conventionalities — of  her  keen  and  passionate  sorrow  when  her 
father  died,  and  Sir  Oswald  took  her  home  to  Darrell  Court, 
telling  her  that  her  past  life  was  at  an  end  forever,  and  that  even 
the  name  she  had  inherited  from  her  father  must  be  changed  for 
the  name  of  her  race — how  after  a  time  she  had  grown  to  love 
her  home  with  a  keen,  passionate  love,  born  of  pride  in  her 
race  and  in  her  name — of  the  fierce  battle  that  raged  always  be- 
tween her  stern,  uncompromising  truth  and  the  worldly  polish 
Sir  Oswald  would  have  had  her  acquire. 

She  concealed  nothing  from  him,  telling  him  of  her  faults  as 
well  as  her  trials.  She  gave  him  the  whole  history  of  Aubrey 
Langton's  wooing,  and  her  contemptuous  rejection  of  his  suit. 

"I  was  so  proud,  Vane,"  she  said,  humbly.  "Heaven  was 
sure  to  punish  me.  I  surrounded  myself,  as  it  were,  with  a 


PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W.  275 

barrier  of  pride,  scorn,  and  contempt,  and  my  pride  has  been 
brought  low." 

She  told  him  of  Sir  Oswald's  anger  at  her  refusal  to  marry 
Aubrey,  of  her  uncle's  threat  that  he  would  marry  and  disin- 
herit her,  of  her  scornful  disbelief — there  was  no  incident  for- 
gotten ;  and  then  she  came  to  the  evening  when  Sir  Oswald  had 
opened  the  box  to  take  out  the  diamond  ring,  and  had  spoken 
before  them  all  of  the  roll  of  bank-notes  placed  there. 

"That  night,  Vane,"  she  said,  "there  was  a  strange  unrest 
upon  me.  I  could  not  sleep.  I  have  had  the  same  sensation 
when  the  air  has  been  overcharged  with  electricity  before  a 
storm ;  I  seemed  to  hear  strange  noises,  my  heart  beat,  my  face 
was  flushed  and  hot,  every  nerve  seemed  to  thrill  with  pain.  I 
opened  the  window,  thinking  that  the  cool  night  air  would  drive 
the  fever  from  my  brain. 

"As  I  sat  there  in  the  profound  silence,  I  heard,  as  plainly 
as  I  hear  myself  speaking  now,  footsteps — quiet,  stealthy  foot- 
steps— go  past  my  door. 

"Let  me  explain  to  you  that  the  library,  where  my  uncle 
kept  his  cash-box  and  his  papers,  is  on  the  ground  floor ;  on 
the  floor  above  that  there  are  several  guest-chambers.  Captain 
Langton  slept  in  one  of  these.  My  uncle  slept  on  the  thi*d 
floor,  and,  in  order  to  reach  his  room,  was  obliged  to  go 
through  the  corridor  where  the  rooms  of  Miss  Hastings  and 
myself  were. 

"I  heard  those  quiet,  stealthy  footsteps,  Vane,  and  my  heart 
for  a  few  moments  beat  painfully.  • 


276  PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W. 

( '  But  the  Darrells  were  never  cowards.  I  went  to  my  door 
and  opened  it  gently.  I  could  see  to  the  very  end  of  the  corri- 
dor, for  at  the  end  there  was  a  large  arched  window,  and  a  faint 
gray  light  coming  from  it  showed  me  a  stealthy  figure  creeping 
silently  from  Sir  Oswald's  room  ;  the  gray  light  showed  me  also 
a  glimmer  of  steel,  and  I  knew,  almost  by  instinct,  that  that 
silent  figure  carried  Sir  Oswald's  keys  in  its  hands. 

"In  a  moment  I  had  taken  my  resolve.  I  pushed  my  door 
to,  but  did  not  close  it ;  I  took  off  my  slippers,  lest  they  should 
make  a  sound,  and  followed  the  figure  down  stairs.  As  I  have 
said  before,  the  Darrells  were  never  cowards ;  no  dread  came  to 
me ;  I  was  intent  upon  one  thing — the  detection  of  the  wrong- 
doer. 

"Not  more  than  a  minute  passed  while  I  was  taking  off  my 
shoes,  but  when  I  came  to  the  foot  of  the  grand  staircase  light 
and  figure  had  both  disappeared.  I  cannot  tell  what  impulse 
led  me  to  the  library — perhaps  the  remembrance  of  Sir  Oswald's 
money  being  there  came  to  me.  I  crossed  the  hall  and  opened 
the  library  door. 

' '  Though  I  had  never  liked  Captain  Langton,  the  scene  that 
was  revealed  to  me  came  upon  me  as  a  shock — one  that  I  shall 
never  forget.  There  was  Captain  Langton  with  my  uncle's 
cash-box  before  him,  and  the  roll  of  bank-notes  in  his  hand. 
He  looked  up  when  I  entered,  and  a  terrible  curse  fell  from  his 
lips — a  frightful  curse.  His  face  was  fearful  to  see.  The  room 
lay  in  the  shadow  of  dense  darkness,  save  where  the  light  he 
carried  shone  like  a  faint  star.  The  face  it  showed  me  was  one 


PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W.  277 

I  shall  never  forget ;  it  was  drawn,  haggard,  livid,  with  blood- 
less lips  and  wild,  glaring  eyes. 

"He  laid  the  bank-notes  down,  and,  going  to  the  door, 
closed  it  softly,  turning  the  key ;  and  then  clutching  my  arm  in 
a  grasp  of  iron,  he  hissed  rather  than  said  : 

"  'What  fiend  has  brought  you  here  ?' 

"He  did  not  frighten  me,  Vane;  I  have  never  known  fear. 
But  his  eyes  were  full  of  murderous  hate,  and  I  had  an  idea 
that  he  would  have  few  scruples  as  to  taking  my  life. 

"'So,  Captain  Aubrey  Langton,'  I  said,  slowly,  'you  are  a 
thief!  You  are  robbing  the  old  friend  who  has  been  so  good 
to  you !' 

"He  dragged  me  to  the  table  on  which  the  money  lay,  and 
then  I  saw  a  revolver  lying  there,  too. 

"'One  word,'  he  hissed,  'one  whisper  above  your  breath, 
and  you  shall  die  !' 

"I  know  my  face  expressed  no  fear — nothing  but  scorn  and 
contempt — for  his  grew  more  livid  as  he  watched  me. 

"'It  is  all  your  fault!'  he  hissed  into  my  ear;  'it  is  your 
accursed  pride  that  has  driven  me  to  this !  Why  did  you  not 
promise  to  marry  me  when  my  life  lay  in  your  hands'?' 

' '  I  laughed — the  idea  of  a  Darrell  married  to  this  midnight 
thief! 

"'I  told   you  I   was  a  desperate   man,'   he   went   on. 
pleaded  with  you,  I  prayed  to  you,  I  laid  my  life  at  your  feet, 
and  you  trampled  on  it  with  scorn.     I  told  you  of  my  debts, 
my  difficulties,   and  you  laughed  at  them.     If  I  could  have 


278  PRIDE  BROUGHT  LOW. 

gone  back  to  London  betrothed  to  you,  every  city  usurer  would 
have  been  willing  to  lend  me  money.  I  am  driven  to  this,  for 
I  cannot  go  back  to  face  ruin.  You  have  driven  me  to  it ;  you 
are  the  thief,  though  my  hands  take  the  money.  Your  thrice- 
accursed  pride  has  ruined  me !' 

' ' ' I  shall  go  to  Sir  Oswald, '  I  said,  'and  wake  him.  You 
shall  not  rob  him  !' 

"  'Yes/  he  returned,  'I  shall.  I  defy  you,  I  dare  you  ;  you 
shall  tell  no  one. ' 

' '  He  took  the  revolver  from  the  table  and  held  it  to  my  head ; 
I  felt  the  cold  steel  touch  my  forehead. 

"  'Now/  he  said,  'your  life  is  in  your  own  hands ;  you  must 
take  an  oath  not  to  betray  me,  or  I  will  fire. ' 

"  'I  am  not  afraid  to  die;  I  would  rather  die  than  hide  such 
sin  as  yours.  You  cannot  frighten  me ;  I  shall  call  for  assist- 
ance. ' 

"  'Wait  a  moment/  he  said,  still  keeping  that  cold  steel  to 
my  forehead,  and  still  keeping  his  murderous  eyes  on  my  face  ; 
'listen  to  what  I  shall  do.  The  moment  you  cry  out  I  shall 
fire,  and  you  will  fall  down  dead — I  told  you  I  was  a  desperate 
man.  Before  any  one  has  time  to  come  I  shall  place  the  bank- 
notes in  your  hand,  and  afterward  I  shall  tell  Sir  Oswald  that, 
hearing  a  noise  in  the  library,  and  knowing  money  was  kept 
there,  I  hastened  down,  and  finding  a  thief,  I  fired,  not  know- 
ing who  it  was — and  you,  being  dead,  cannot  contradict  me. ' 
"  'You  dare  not  be  so  wicked  !'  I  cried. 

"'I  dare  anything — I  am  a  desperate  man.     I  will  do  it,  and 


PRIDE  BROUGHT  LOW.  279 

the  whole  world  will  believe  me  ;  they  will  hold  you  a  thief,  but 
they  will  believe  me  honest. ' 

"And,  Vane,  I  knew  that  what  he  said  was  true;  I  knew  that 
if  I  chose  death  I  should  die  in  vain — that  I  should  be  branded 
as  a  thief,  who  had  been  shot  in  the  very  act  of  stealing. 

'"I  will  give  you  two  minutes/  he  said,  'and  then,  unless 
you  take  an  oath  not  to  betray  me,  I  will  fire. ' 

"I  was  willing  to  lose  my  life,  Vane,"  she  continued,  "but  I 
could  not  bear  that  all  the  world  should  brand  me  as  a  thief — I 
could  not  bear  that  a  Darrell  should  be  reckoned  among  the 
lowest  of  criminals.  I  vow  to  you  it  was  no  coward  fear  for  my 
life,  no  weak  dread  of  death  that  forced  the  oath  from  my  lips, 
but  it  was  a  shrinking  from  being  found  dead  there  with  Sir  Os- 
wald's money  in  my  hand — a  shrinking  from  the  thought  that 
they  would  come  to  look  upon  my  face  and  say  to  each  other, 
'Who  would  have  thought,  with  all  her  pride,  that  she 
thief?'  It  was  that  word  '  thief, '  burning  my  brain,  that  con- 
quered. 

"  'You  have  one  minute  more/  said  the  hissing  whisper, 
'and  then,  unless  you  take  the  oath ' 

'"I  will  take  it/  I  replied;  'I  do  so,  not  to  save  my  life,  but 
my  fair  name. ' 

' "  It  is  well  for  you, '  he  returned  ;  and  then  he  forced  me  to 
kneel,  while  he  dictated  to  me  the  words  of  an  oath  so  binding 
and  so  fast  that  I  dared  not  break  it. 

"Shuddering,  sick  at  heart,  wishing  I  had  risked  all  and 


280  PRIDE  BROUGHT  LOW. 

cried  out  for  help,  I  repeated  it,  and  then  he  laid  the  revolver 
down. 

'"You  will  not  break  that  oath/  he  said.  'The  Darrells  in- 
variably keep  their  word. ' 

"Then,  coolly  as  though  I  had  not  been  present,  he  put  the 
bank-notes  into  his  pocket,  and  turned  to  me  with  a  sneer. 

"  'You  will  wonder  how  I  managed  this/  he  said.  'I  am  a 
clever  man,  although  you  may  not  believe  it.  I  drugged  Sir 
Oswald's  wine,  and  while  he  slept  soundly  I  took  the  keys  from 
under  his  pillow.  I  will  put  them  back  again.  You  seem  so 
horrified  that  you  had  better  accompany  me  and  see  that  I  do 
no  harm  to  the  old  man/ 

"He  put  away  the  box  and  extinguished  the  light.  As  we 
stood  together  in  the  dense  gloom,  1  felt  his  breath  hot  upon 
my  face. 

"  'There  is  no  curse  a  man  can  invoke  upon  the  woman  who 
has  ruined  him/  he  said,  'that  I  do  not  give  to  you;  but,  re- 
member, I  do  not  glory  in  my  crime — I  am  ashamed  of  it. ' 

"In  the  darkness  I  groped  my  way  to  the  door,  and  opened 
it ;  in  the  darkness  we  passed  through  the  hall  where  the  armor 
used  by  warriors  of  old  hung,  and  in  the  darkness  we  went  up 
the  broad  staircase.  I  stood  at  the  door  of  Sir  Oswald's  room 
while  Captain  Langton  replaced  the  keys,  and  then,  without  a 
word,  I  went  to  my  own  chamber. 

"Vane,  I  can  never  tell  you  of  the  storm,  the  tempest  of 
hate  that  raged  within  me.  I  could  have  killed  myself  for  hav- 
ing taken  the  oath.  I  could  have  killed  Captain  Langton  for 


PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W.  281 

having  extorted  it.      But  there  was  no  help  for  it  then.     Do  you 
think  I  did  wrong  in  taking  it?" 

"No,  my  darling,"  he  replied,  "I  do  not.      Few  girls  would 
have  been  so  brave.     You  are  a  heroine,  Pauline." 

"Hush !"  she  said,  interrupting  him.  "You  have  not  heard 
all.  I  do  not  blame  myself  for  acting  as  I  did.  I  debated  for 
some  time  whether  I  ought  to  keep  the  oath  or  not.  Every 
good  impulse  of  gratitude  prompted  me  to  break  it;  yet  again 
it  seemed  to  me  a.  cowardly  thing  to  purchase  my  life  by  a  lie. 
Time  passed  on — the  wonder  all  died  away.  I  said  to  myself 
that,  if  ever  any  one  were  falsely  accused,  I  would  speak  out; 
but  such  an  event  never  happened ;  and  not  very  long  after,  as 
you  know,  Sir  Oswald  died.  I  did  not  like  living  under  the 
shadow  of  that  secret — it  robbed  my  life  of  all  brightness.  Cap- 
tain Langton  came  again.  No  words  of  mine  can  tell  the  con- 
tempt in  which  I  held  him,  the  contempt  with  which  I  treated 
him ;  every  one  noticed  it,  but  he  did  not  dare  to  complain. 
He  did  dare,  however,  to  offer  me  his  hateful  love  again,  and, 
when  I  repulsed  him  in  such  a  fashion  as  even  he  could  not 
overlook,  he  turned  all  his  attention  to  Lady  Darrell.  I  am  a 
wicked  girl,  Vane — now  that  the  light  of  your  love  has  revealed 
so  much  to  me,  I  can  see  how  wicked.  I  have  told  you  that  I 
had  sworn  to  myself  to  be  revenged  on  Lady  Darrell  for  coming 
between  me  and  my  inheritance.  I  have  seen  more  of  the 
world  since  then,  but  at  that  time  it  seemed  to  me  an  unparal- 
leled thing  that  a  young  girl  like  her  should  marry  an  old  man 
like  Sir  Oswald  entirely  for  his  money.  I  told  her  if  she  did  so 


282  PRIDE  BROUGHT  LOW. 

I  would  be  revenged.  I  know  it  was  wrong, "  Pauline  contin- 
ued, humbly;  "at  the  time  I  thought  it  brave  and  heroic,  now 
I  know  it  was  wrong,  and  weak,  and  wicked — your  love  has 
taught  me  that. " 

"It  was  an  error  that  sprang  from  pride,"  he  said,  gently; 
"there  is  nothing  to  part  us." 

"You  have  not  heard  all.  Vane,  I  knew  Captain  Langton 
to  be  a  thief— to  be  a  man  who  would  not  scruple  at  murder  if 
need  required.  I  knew  that  all  the  love  he  could  ever  give  to 
any  one  he  had  given  to  me,  yet  I " 

She  paused,  and  the  sad  face  raised  humbly  to  his  grew  crim- 
son with  a  burning  blush. 

"Oh,  Vane,  how  can  I  tell  you  the  shameful  truth?  Know- 
ing what  he  was,  knowing  that  he  was  going  to  marry  Lady 
Darrell,  I  yet  withheld  the  truth.  That  was  my  revenge.  I 
knew  he  was  a  thief,  a  cruel,  wicked  slanderer,  a  thoroughly  bad 
man,  yet,  when  one  word  from  me  would  have  saved  her  from 
accepting  his  proposal,  I,  for  my  vengeance  sake,  refused  to 
speak  that  word. " 

Her  voice  died  away  in  a  low  whisper ;  the  very  sound  of  her 
words  seemed  to  frighten  her.  Vane  St.  Lawrence's  face  grew 
pale  and  stern. 

"It  was  unworthy  of  you,  Pauline,"  he  said,  unhesitatingly. 
"It  was  a  cruel  revenge." 

* '  I  know  it, "  she  admitted.  ' '  No  words  can  add  to  the  keen 
sense  of  my  dishonor. " 


PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W.  283 

"Tell  me  how  it  was,"  he  said,  more  gently. 

"I  think,"  continued  Pauline,  "that  she  had  always  liked 
Captain  Langton.  I  remember  that  I  used  to  think  so  before 
she  married  my  uncle.  But  she  had  noticed  my  contempt  for 
him.  It  shook  her  faith  in  him,  and  made  her  doubt  him. 
She  came  to  me  one  day,  Vane,  with  that  doubt  in  her  face  and 
in  her  words.  She  asked  me  to  tell  her  if  I  knew  anything 
against  him — if  there  was  any  reason  why  she  should  doubt 
him.  She  asked  me  then,  before  she  allowed  herself  to  love 
him ;  one  word  from  me  then  would  have  saved  her,  and  that 
word,  for  my  vengeance  sake,  I  would  not  speak." 

"It  should  have  been  spoken,"  observed  Sir  Vane,  gravely. 

"I  know  it.  Captain  Langton  has  no  honor,  no  conscience. 
He  does  not  even  like  Lady  Darrell ;  he  will  marry  her  solely 
that  he  may  have  Darrell  Court.  He  will  afterward  maltreat 
her,  and  hold  her  life  as  nothing ;  he  will  squander  the  Darrell 
property.  Vane,  as  truly  as  the  bright  heaven  shines  above  me, 
I  believe  him  to  have  no  redeeming  quality. " 

There  was  silence  for  some  minutes,  and  then  Sir  Vane 
asked : 

"Tell  me,  Pauline— do  you  think  that  Lady  Darrell  would 
marry  him  if  she  knew  what  you  have  just  told  me  ?" 

"I  am  sure  she  would  not.  She  is  very  worldly,  and  only 
lives  what  one  may  call  a  life  of  appearances ;  she  would  not 
marry  him  if  she  knew  him  to  be  a  thief— she  would  shrink 
from  him.  Elegant,  polished,  amiable  women  like  Lady  Dar- 
rell are  frightened  at  crime." 


284  PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  w. 

"That  one  word  ought  to  have  been  spoken,  Pauline,  out  of 
sheer  womanly  pity  and  sheer  womanly  grace.  How  could 
you  refuse  to  speak  when  she  came  to  you  with  a  prayer  on  her 
lips?" 

"The  pride  and  thirst  for  vengeance  were  too  strong  for  me," 
she  replied. 

"And  to  these  you  have  sacrificed  the  life  and  happiness  of  a 
woman  who  has  never  realty  injured  you.  Lady  Darrell  and 
Captain  Langton  are  not  yet  married — are  they,  Pauline  ?" 

"No,  they  are  to  be  married  in  the  spring,"  she  answered. 

"Then  listen  to  me,  my  darling.     This  marriage  must  never 
take  place.     Your  silence  is  wicked — you  cannot  honorably  and 
conscientiously  stand    by  and  see  Lady  Darrell  throw  herself 
away  on  a  thief.      You  have  done  a  grievous  wrong,  Pauline. 
You  must  make  a  noble  atonement. " 

Something  like  a  gleam  of  hope  came  into  her  eyes 

"Can  I  atone?"  she  asked.  "I  will  do  so  if  I  know  how, 
even  at  the  price  of  my  life. " 

"I  tell  you,  frankly,"  he  said,  "that  you  have  done  grievous- 
ly wrong.  When  that  poor  lady  came  to  you  in  her  doubt  and 
perplexity,  you  ought  to  have  told  her  at  least  as  much  of  the 
truth  as  would  have  prevented  the  marriage.  But,  my  darling, 
this  shall  not  part  us.  If  I  teach  you  how  to  atone  will  you 
atone?" 

She  crossed  her  hands  as  one  praying. 

"I  will  do  anything  you  tell  me,  Vane." 


PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W.  285 

"You  must  go  to  Darrell  Court,  and  you  must  make  to  Lady 
Darrell  the  same  ample  avowal  you  have  made  to  me ;  tell  her 
the  same  story — how  you  vowed  vengeance  against  her,  and 
how  you  carried  that  vengeance  out ;  and  then  see  what  comes 
of  it." 

"But  suppose  she  will  not  believe  me — what  then?" 

' '  You  will  have  done  your  best — you  will  at  least  have  made 
atonement  for  your  secrecy.  If,  with  her  eyes  open,  Lady  Dar- 
rell marries  Captain  Langton  after  that,  you  will  have  nothing 
to  blame  yourself  for.  It  will  be  hard  for  you,  my  darling,  but 
it  is  the  brave,  right,  true  thing  to  do." 

"And  you  do  not  hate  me,  Vane?" 

"No ;  I  love  you  even  better  than  I  did.  The  woman  brave 
enough  to  own  her  faults  and  desirous  to  atone  for  them  de- 
serves all  the  love  a  man  can  give  her.  Pauline,  when  you 
have  done  this,  my  darling,  may  I  ask  you  when  you  will  be  my 
wife  ?" 

She  sobbed  out  that  she  was  unworthy — all  unworthy;  but 
he  would  not  even  hear  the  words. 

"None  the  less  dear  are  you  for  having  told  me  your  faults. 
There  is  only  one  word  now,  my  darling,  to  keep  in  view ;  and 
that  is,  'atonement'" 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  happy,  glistening  eyes. 

"Vane,"  she  said,  "I  will  go  to  Darrell  Court  to-morrow.  I 
shall  never  rest  now  until  I  have  done  what  you  wish  me  to 
do." 


286  PRIDE  BROUGHT  LO  W. 

So  far  had  love  redeemed  her  that  she  was  ready  to  undo  all 
the  wrong  she  had  done,  at  any  cost  to  her  pride. 

But  love  was  to  work  even  greater  wonders  for  her  yet. 


PA  ULINE  AND  LADY  DARRELL.  287 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

PAULINE    AND    LADY    DARRELL. 

Pauline  communicated  her  resolution  of  going  to  Darrell 
Court  to  Miss  Hastings,  and  that  lady  looked  up  in  surprise  al- 
most too  great  for  words  v 

"You  are  going  to  Darrell  Court  to-morrow !"  she  exclaimed. 
"It  cannot  be,  Pauline;  you  must  not  travel  alone.  If  you 
go,  I  must  go  with  you." 

But  Pauline  threw  one  arm  caressingly  round  her  friend's 
neck. 

"Do  not  try  to  stop  me,"  she  said,  pleadingly,  "and  let  me 
go  alone.  I  did  a  great  wrong  at  Darrell  Court,  and  I  must  re- 
turn to  set  it  right.  Only  alone  can  I  do  that " 

"Pauline,"  asked  Miss  Hastings,  gravely,  "do  you  wish  to 
atone  for  your  revenge  ?" 

"I  do,"  she  replied,  simply.  "You  must  let  me  go  alone ; 
and  when  I  come  back  I  shall  have  something  to  tell  you— 
something  that  I  know  will  please  you  very  much." 


288  PA  ULINE  AND  LADY  DARRELL. 

Miss  Hastings  kissed  the  beautiful  face. 

"It  is  as  I  thought,"  she  said  to  herself — "in  her  case  love 
has  worked  wonders — it  has  redeemed  her." 

******* 

Lady  Darrell  sat  alone  in  her  dressing-room ;  the  autumn 
day  was  drawing  to  a  close.  Greatly  to  her  delight  and  surprise, 
Captain  Langton  had  unexpectedly  appeared  that  morning. 
He  knew  that  in  the  absence  of  Miss  Hastings  he  could  not 
stop  at  Darrell  Court ;  but  he  was  paying  a  visit,  he  told  Lady 
Darrell,  to  Sir  Peter  Glynn,  and  hoped  to  see  her  every  day. 
He  had  declined  dining  at  the  Court,  but  promised  to  spend 
some  part  of  the  evening  there. 

Lady  Darrell  had  ordered  an  early  dinner,  and  sat  in  her 
dressing-room  awaiting  her  maid.  Of  course  she  was  going  to 
dress  for  the  captain — to  set  off  her  delicate  beauty  to  the  great- 
est advantage.  A  superb  costume  of  pale  pink  brocade,  with 
rich  trimmings  of  white  lace,  was  ready  for  her.  A  suit  of 
pearls  and  opals  lay  in  their  open  cases.  The  room  presented  a 
picturesque  appearance  of  unbounded  and  splendid  confusion — 
lace,  jewelry,  fans,  slippers,  all  kinds  of  valuable  and  pretty 
ornaments  were  there ;  but  nothing  in  that  room  was  one  half 
so  fair  as  the  beautiful  woman  who  sat  with  a  pleased  smile 
upon  her  face. 

Yet  there  was  something  like  a  sigh  on  her  lips.  Did  he  love 
her?  Of  her  own  feelings  she  had  no  doubt.  She  loved  him 
with  her  whole  heart — as  she  had  never  imagined  herself  capa- 


PA  ULINE  AND  LA DY  DARRELL.  289 

ble  of  loving  any  one.  But  did  he  love  her?  There  was 
somewhat  of  coldness  and  indifference  in  his  manner— some- 
thing she  could  not  understand.  He  had  greeted  her  carelessly 
— he  had  bidden  her  a  careless  farewell,  she  said  to  herselC 
Yet  he  must  love  her ;  for  the  face  reflected  in  the  mirror  was  a 
very  fair  one. 

Then  she  remembered  Pauline,  and  the  old  wonder  came 
over  her  why  Pauline  had  always  such  great,  such  unbounded 
contempt  for  him. 

Her  maid  came  in,  and  Lady  Darrell  put  on  the  pink  brocade 
with  its  white  lace  trimmings.  The  maid,  in  ecstasies,  cried 
out  that  it  was  superb — that  "my  lady"  had  "never  looked  so 

beautiful." 

Lady  Darrell  took  up  the  pearl  necklace  and  held  it  against 
the  pink  brocade  to  note  the  contrast.  While  she  held  it  in 
her  hands  one  of  the  servants  gave  a  hurried  rap  at  the  door. 
She  came  to  announce  that  Miss  Darrell  had  arrived  suddenly, 
and  wished  to  see  Lady  Darrell  at  once. 

"Miss  Darrell!  Then  something  must  be  the  matter  with 
Miss  Hastings.  Ask  her  to  come  to  me  at  once. " 

In  a  few  moments  Pauline  was  standing  in  that  brilliant 
room,  looking  pale  and  anxious. 

"No,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  Lady  DarreH's  eager  question  ; 
"there  is  nothing  the  matter  with  Miss  Hastings.  I  wanted  to 
see  you;  I  want  to  see  you  alone.  Can  you  spare  a  few 
minutes?" 


290  PAULINE  AND  LADY  DARRELL. 

Lady  Darrell  dismissed  her  maid,  and  then  turned  to  Pau- 
line. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked.  "What  has  brought  you  here  so 
suddenly?" 

Without  one  word,  Pauline  went  to  the  door  and  locked  it, 
and  then  she  went  back  to  Lady  Darrell,  who  was  watching  her 
in  wonder. 

' '  I  have  done  you  a  great  wrong, "  she  said,  humbly,  ' '  and  I 
have  come  to  atone  for  it. ' 

Lady  Darrell  drew  back,  trembling  with  strange,  vague  fear. 

"Oh,  Pauline,  Pauline,  what  have  you  done ?" 

Pauline  threw  aside  her  traveling  cloak  and  took  off  her  hat ; 
and  then  she  came  to  Lady  Darrell. 

' '  Let  me  tell  you  my  story,  kneeling  here, "  she  said ;  and 
she  knelt  down  before  Lady  Darrell,  looking  as  she  spoke 
straight  into  her  face.  "Let  me  tell  you  before  I  begin  it," 
she  added,  ' '  that  I  have  no  excuse  to  offer  for  myself — none. 
I  can  only  thank  Heaven  that  I  have  seen  my  fault  before — for 
your  sake — it  is  too  late. " 

Slowly,  gravely,  sometimes  with  bitter  tears  and  with  sobs 
that  came  from  the  depths  of  her  heart,  Pauline  told  her  story 
—how  the  captain  had  loved  her,  how  ill  he  had  taken  her  re- 
pulse, how  she  had  discovered  his  vile  worthlessness,  but  for  the 
sake  of  her  revenge  had  said  nothing. 

Lady  Darrell  listened  as  to  her  death-knell. 
"Is  this  true,  Pauline?"   she  cried.      "  You  vowed  vengeance 
against  me — is  this  your  vengeance,  to  try  to  part  me  from  the 


PA  ULINE  AND  LADY  DARRELL.  291 

man  I  love,  and  to  take  from  me  the  only  chance  of  happiness 
that  my  wretched  life  holds?" 

(  Her  fair  face  had  grown  deadly  pale;  all  the  light  and  the 
happiness  had  fled  from  it;  the  pearls  lay  unheeded,  the  blue 
eyes  grew  dim  with  tears. 

"Is  it  possible,  Pauline?"  she  cried  again.  "Have  I  given 
my  love  to  one  dishonored?  I  cannot  believe  it — I  will  not  be- 
lieve it !  It  is  part  of  your  vengeance  against  me.  What  have 
I  done  that  you  should  hate  me  so?" 

The  dark  eyes  and  the  beautiful  face  were  raised  to  hers. 

"Dear  Lady  Darrell,"  said  the  girl,  "I  have  never  spoken  a 
loving  word  to  you  before ;  but  I  tell  you  now  that,  if  I  could 
give  my  life  to  save  you  from  this  sorrow,  I  would  do  so." 

"Aubrey  Langton  a  thief!"  cried  Lady  Darrell.  "It  is  not 
true — I  will  swear  that  it  is  not  true !  I  love  him,  and  you 
want  to  take  him  from  me.  How  could  you  dare  to  invent 
such  a  falsehood  of  him,  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman  ?  You  are 
cruel  and  wicked. " 

Yet  through  all  her  passionate  denials,  through  all  her  bitter 
anger,  there  ran  a  shudder  of  deadly  fear — a  doubt  that  chilled 
her  with  the  coldness  of  death — a  voice  that  would  be  heard, 
crying  out  that  here  was  no  wrong,  no  falsehood,  but  the  bare, 
unvarnished  truth.  She  cast  it  from  her — she  trampled  it  under 
foot ;  and  the  girl  kneeling  at  her  feet  suffered  as  much  as  she 
did  herself  while  she  watched  that  struggle. 

"You  say  that  he  would  have  murdered  you — that  he  held  a 


292  PA  ULINE  AND  LADY  DARRELL. 

pistol   to  your  forehead,   and   made  you  take  that  oath — he, 
Aubrey  Langton,  did  that?" 

"He  did!"  said  Pauline.  "Would  to  Heaven  I  had  told 
you  before. " 

"Would  to  Heaven  you  had!"  she  cried.  "It  is  too  late 
now.  I  love  him — I  love  him,  and  I  cannot  lose  him.  You 
might  have  saved  me  from  this,  and  you  would  not.  Oh,  cruel 
and  false ! " 

' '  Dearest  Lady  Darrell, "  said  the  girl,  ' '  I  would  wash  out 
my  fault  with  my  heart's  blood  if  I  could.  There  is  no  humili- 
ation that  I  would  not  undergo,  no  pain  that  I  would  not 
suffer,  to  save  you. " 

"You  might  have  saved  me.  I  had  a  doubt,. and  I  went  to 
you,  Pauline,  humblyT  not  proudly.  I  prayed  you  to  reveal 
the  truth,  and  you  treated  me  with  scorn.  Can  it  be  that  one 
woman  could  be  so  cruel  to  another?  If  you  had  but  spoken 
half  the  truth  you  have  now  told  me,  I  should  have  believed 
you,  and  have  gone  away ;  I  should  have  crushed  down  the  love 
that  was  rising  in  my  heart,  and  in  time  I  should  have  forgotten 
it.  Now  it  is  too  late.  I  love  him,  and  I  cannot  lose  him — 
dear  Heaven,  I  cannot  lose  him  !" 

She  flung  up  her  arms  with  a  wild  cry  of  despair.  None  ever 
suffered  more  than  did  Pauline  Darrell  then. 

"Oh,  my  sin,"  she  moaned,   " my  grievous  sin  !" 

She  tried  to  soothe  the  unhappy  woman,  but  Lady  Darrell 
turned  from  her  with  all  the  energy  of  despair. 

"I  cannot  believe  you,"  she  cried;   "it  is  an  infamous  plot 


PA  ULINE  AND  LADY  DARRELL.  293 

to  destroy  my  happiness  and  to  destroy  me.  Hark  !  There  is 
Aubrey  Langton's  voice;  come  with  me  and  say  before  him 
what  you  have  said  to  me." 


294  FACE  TO  FACE. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

FACE    TO    FACE. 

Captain  Langton  looked  up  in  surprise  not  altogether  un- 
founded, the  sight  that  met  his  eyes  was  so  unusual. 

Before  him  stood  Lady  Darrell,  her  face  white  as  death,  her 
lips  quivering  with  excitement,  her  superb  dress  of  pink  brocade 
all  disarranged,  her  golden  hair  falling  over  her  beautiful  shoul- 
ders— a  sight  not  to  be  forgotten ;  she  held  Pauline  by  the 
hand,  and  in  all  her  life  Lady  Darrell  had  never  looked  so  agi- 
tated as  now. 

''Captain  Langton,"  said  Lady  Darrell,  "will  you  come 
here?"  I  want  you  most  particularly." 

It  was  by  pure  chance  that  she  opened  the  library  door — it 
was  th?  one  nearest  to  her. 

"Will  you  follow  me?"  she  said. 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  somewhat  of  confusion 
in  his  face. 

"Miss  Darrell!"  he  cried.  "Why,  I  thought  you  were  at 
Omberleigh !" 

Pauline  made  no  reply. 


FACE  TO  FACE.  2y5 

Lady  Darrell  held  the  library  door  open  while  they  entered, 
and  then  she  closed  it,  and  turned  the  key. 

Captain  Langton  looked  at  her  in  wonder. 

"Elinor,"  he  said,  "  what  does  this  mean ?  Are  you  going 
to  play  a  tragedy  or  a  farce?" 

"That  will  depend  upon  you,"  she  answered  ;  "I  am  glad 
and  thankful  to  have  brought  you  and  Miss  Darrell  face  to  face. 
Now  I  shall  know  the  truth. " 

The  surprise  on  his  face  deepened  into  an  angry  scowl. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded,  sharply.  "I  do  not 
understand. " 

It  was  a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten.  The  library  was  dim 
with  the  shadows  of  the  autumn  evening,  and  in  the  gloom 
Lady  Darrell's  pale  pink  dress,  golden  hair,  and  white  arms 
bare  to  the  shoulder,  seemed  to  attract  all  the  light ;  her  face 
was  changed  from  its  great  agitation — the  calm,  fair  beauty,  the 
gentle,  caressing  manner  were  gone. 

Near  her  stood  Pauline,  whose  countenance  was  softened  with 
compassion  and  pity  unutterable,  the  dark  eyes  shining  as 
through  a  mist  of  tears. 

Before  them,  as  a  criminal  before  his  judges,  stood  Aubrey 
Langton,  with  an  angry  scowl  on  his  handsome  face,  and  yet 
something  like  fear  in  his  eyes. 

"What  is  it?"  he  cried,  impatiently.  "I  cannot  understand 
this  at  all. " 

Lady  Darrell  turned  her  pale  face  to  him. 

"Captain  Langton,"  she  said,  gravely,  "Miss  Darrell  brings 


296  FACE  TO  FACE. 

a  terrible  accusation  against  you.  She  tells  me  that  you  stole 
the  roll  of  notes  that  Sir  Oswald  missed,  and  that  at  the  price  of 
her  life  you  extorted  an  oath  from  her  not  to  betray  you ;  is  it 
true  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  bravely,  fearlessly. 

"It  is  a  lie !"  he  said. 

Lady  Darrell  continued  : 

"Here,  in  this  room,  where  we  are  standing  now,  she  tells 
me  that  the  scene  took  place,  and  that,  finding  she  had  discov- 
ered you  in  the  very  act  of  theft,  you  held  a  loaded  pistol  to 
her  head  until  she  took  the  oath  you  dictated.  Is  it  true  or 
false  ?" 

"It  is  a  lie  I"  he  repeated;  but  his  lips  were  growing  white, 
and  great  drops  stood  upon  his  brow. 

' '  She  tells  me, "  resumed  Lady  Darrell,  ' '  that  you  loved  her, 
and  that  you  care  only  for  Darrell  Court,  not  for  me.  Is  it 
true?" 

"It  is  all  false,"  he  said,  hoarsely — "false  from  beginning  to 
end !  She  hates  you,  she  hates  me,  and  this  foul  slander  has 
only  been  invented  to  part  us !" 

Lady  Darrell  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Now  Heaven  help  me!"  she  cried.  "Which  am  I  to  be- 
lieve ?" 

Grave  and  composed,  with  a  certain  majesty  of  truth  that 
could  never  be  mistaken,  Pauline  raised  her  right  hand. 

' '  Lady  Darrell, "  she  said,  ' '  I  swear  to  you,  in  the  presence 
of  Heaven,  that  I  have  spoken  nothing  but  the  truth." 


FACE  TO  FACE.  297 

"And  I  swear  it  is  false !"  cried  Aubrey  Langton. 

But  appearances  were  against  him ;  Lady  Darrell  saw  that  he 
trembled,  that  his  lips  worked  almost  convulsively,  and  that 
great  drops  stood  upon  his  brow. 

Pauline  looked  at  him  ;  those  dark  eyes  that  had  in  them  no 
shadow  save  of  infinite  pity  and  sorrow  seemed  to  penetrate  his 
soul,  and  he  shrank  from  the  glance. 

"Elinor,"  he  cried,  "you  believe  me,  surely?  Miss  Darrell 
has  always  hated  you,  and  this  is  her  revenge. " 

"Lady  Darrell,"  said  the  girl,  "I  am  ashamed  of  my  hatred 
and  ashamed  of  my  desire  for  vengeance.  There  is  no  humilia- 
tion to  which  I  would  not  submit  to  atone  for  my  faults,  but 
every  word  I  have  said  to  you  is  true. " 

Once  more  with  troubled  eyes  Lady  Darrell  looked  from  one 
to  the  other;  once  more  she  murmured  : 

"Heaven  help  me  !     Which  am  I  to  believe?" 

Then  Captain  Langton,  with  a  light  laugh,  said  : 

"Is  the  farce  ended,  Lady  Darrell?  You  see  it  is  no  tragedy 
after  all." 

Pauline  turned  to  him,  and  in  the  light  of  that  noble  face  his 
own  grew  mean  and  weak. 

"Captain  Langton,"  she  said,  "I  appeal  to  whatever  there  is 
of  good  and  just  in  you.  Own  to  the  truth.  You  need  not 
be  afraid  of  it— Lady  Darrell  will  not  injure  you.  She  will 
think  better  of  you  if  you  confess  than  if  you  deny.  Tell  her 
that  you  were  led  into  error,  and  trust  to  her  kindness  for 
pardon." 


298  FACE  TO  FACE. 

"She  speaks  well,"  observed  Lady  Darrell,  slowly.  "If  you 
are  guilty,  it  is  better  to  tell  me  so." 

He  laughed  again,  but  the  laugh  was  not  pleasant  to  hear. 
Pauline  continued : 

"Let  the  evil  rest  where  it  is,  Captain  Langton;  do  not 
make  it  any  greater.  In  your  heart  you  know  that  you  have  no 
love  for  this  lady — it  is  her  fortune  that  attracts  you.  If  you 
marry  her,  it  will  only  be  to  make  her  unhappy  for  life.  Admit 
your  fault  and  leave  her  in  peace. " 

' '  You  are  a  remarkably  free-spoken  young  lady,  Miss  Dar- 
rell — you  have  quite  an  oratorical  flow  of  words.  It  is  fortunate 
that  Lady  Darrell  knows  you,  or  she  might  be  tempted  to  be- 
lieve you.  Elinor,  I  rest  my  claim  on  this — since  you  have 
known  Miss  Darrell,  have  you  ever  received  one  act  of  kindness 
from  her,  one  kind  word  even?" 

Lady  Darrell  was  obliged  to  answer : 

"No." 

"Then  I  leave  it,"  he  said,  "to  your  sense  of  justice  which 
of  us  you  are  to  believe  now — her  who,  to  anger  you,  swears  to 
my  guilt,  or  me,  who  swears  to  my  innocence?  Elinor,  my 
love,  you  cannot  doubt  me." 

Pauline  saw  her  eyes  soften  with  unutterable  tenderness — he 
saw  a  faint  flush  rise  on  the  fair  face.  Almost  involuntarily 
Lady  Darrell  drew  near  to  him. 

"I  cannot  bear  to  doubt  you,  Aubrey,"  she  said.  "Oh, 
speak  the  truth  to  me,  for  my  love's  sake !" 

"I  do  speak  the  truth.     Come  with  me;  leave  Miss  Darrell 


FACE  TO  FACE.  299 

for  a  while.  Walk  with  me  across  the  lawn,  and  I  will  tell  \..u 
what  respect  for  Miss  Darrell  prevents  my  saying  hc>r 

Lady  Darrell  turned  to  Pauline. 

"I  must  hear  what  he  has  to  say — it  is  only  just" 

"I  will  wait  for  you,"  she  replied. 

The  captain  was  always  attentive ;  he  went  out  into  the  hall 
and  returned  with  a  shawl  that  he  found  there. 

"  You  cannot  go  out  with  those  beautiful  arms  uncovered, 
Elinor, "  he  said,  gently. 

He  placed  the  shawl  around  her,  trying  to  hide  the  coward, 
trembling  fear. 

"As  though  I  did  not  love  you,"  he  said,  reproachfully. 
"Show  me  another  woman  only  half  so  fair." 

Pauline  made  one  more  effort. 

"Lady  Darrell,"  she  cried,  with  outstretched  hands,  "you 
will  not  decide  hastily — you  will  take  time  to  judge  ?" 

But  as  they  passed  out  together,  something  in  the  delicate 
face  told  her  that  her  love  for  Aubrey  Langton  was  the  strongest 
element  in  her  nature. 

"Lady  Darrell/'  she  cried  again,  "do  not  listen  to  him  !  I 
swear  I  have  told  you  the  truth— Heaven  will  judge  between 
him  and  me  if  I  have  not !" 

"You  must  have  studied  tragedy  at  the  Porte  SL  Martin," 
said  Aubrey  Langton,  with  a  forced  laugh;  "Lady  Darrell 
knows  which  to  believe. " 

She  watched  them  walk  across  the  lawn,  Captain  Langton 
pleading  earnestly,  Lady  DarreU's  face  softening  as  she  listened. 


300  FACE  TO  FACE. 

"I  am  too  late !"  cried  the  girl,  in  an  agcny  of  self-reproach. 
"All  my  humiliation  is  in  vain;  she  will  believe  him  and  not 
me.  I  cannot  save  her  now,  but  one  word  spoken  in  time 
might  have  done  so. " 

Oh,  the  bitterness  of  the  self-reproach  that  tortured  her — the 
anguish  of  knowing  that  she  could  have  prevented  Lady  Dar- 
rell's  wrecking  her  whole  life,  yet  had  not  done  so !  It  was  no 
wonder  that  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  weeping  and  pray- 
ing as  she  had  never  wept  and  prayed  in  her  life  before. 
******* 

' '  Elinor,  look  at  me, "  said  Captain  Langton ;  * '  do  I  look 
like  a  thief  and  a  would-be  murderer  ?" 

Out  of  Pauline's  presence  the  handsome  face  had  regained  its 
usual  careless,  debonair  expression. 

She  raised  her  eyes,  and  he  saw  in  them  the  lingering  doubt, 
the  lingering  fear. 

"If  all  the  world  had  turned  against  me,"  he  said,  "and  had 
refused  to  believe  in  me,  you,  Elinor,  my  promised  wife,  ought 
to  have  had  more  faith." 

She  made  no  reply.  There  had  been  someth'ng  in  the 
energy  of  Pauline's  manner  that  carried  conviction  with  it ;  and 
the  weak  heart,  the  weak  nature  that  had  always  relied  upon 
others,  could  form  no  decision  unaided. 

"For  argument  sake,  let  us  reverse  the  case.  Say  that  some 
disappointed  lover  of  yours  came  to  tell  to  me  that  you  had 
been  discovered  stealing;  should  I  not  have  laughed?  Why, 
Elinor,  you  must  be  blind  not  to  see  the  truth ;  a  child  might 


FACE  TO  FACE.  301 

discern  it.  The  fact  is  that  long  ago  I  was  foolish  enough  to 
believe  myself  in  love  with  Miss  Darrell ;  and  she— well,  hon- 
estly speaking,  she  is  jealous.  A  gentleman  does  not  like  to 
refer  to  such  things,  but  that  is  the  simple  truth.  She  is  jealous, 
and  would  part  us  if  she  could ;  but  she  shall  not  My  beauti- 
ful Elinor  is  all  my  own,  and  no  half-crazed,  jealous  girl  shall 
come  between  us." 

"Is  it  so,  Aubrey?"  asked  Lady  Darrell. 

"My  dearest  Elinor,  that  is  the  whole  secret  of  Miss  Dar- 
rell's  strange  conduct  to  me.  She  is  jealous — and  you  know,  I 
should  imagine,  what  jealous  women  are  like." 

She  tried  to  believe  him,  but,  when  she  recalled  the  noble 
face,  with  its  pure  light  of  truth  and  pity,  she  doubted  again. 
But  Captain  Langton  pleaded,  prayed,  invented  such  ridiculous 
stories  of  Pauline,  made  such  fervent  protestations  of  love,  lav- 
ished such  tender  words  upon  her,  that  the  weak  heart  turned 
to  him  again,  and  again  its  doubtings  were  cast  aside. 

"How  we  shall  laugh  over  this  in  the  happy  after  years !"  he 
said.  "It  is  really  like  a  drama.  Oh,  Elinor,  I  am  so  thank- 
ful that  I  was  here  to  save  you  !  And  now,  my  darling,  you  are 
trembling  with  cold.  My  fair,  golden-haired  Elinor,  what  must 
you  think  of  that  cruel  girl  ?  How  could  she  do  it  ?  No ;  I 
will  not  go  in  again  to-night — I  should  not  be  able  to  keep  my 
temper.  Your  grand  tragedy  heroine  will  be  gone  to-morrow." 

They  stood  together  under  the  shadow  of  the  balcony,  and  he 
drew  her  nearer  to  him. 

"Elinor,"  he  said,  "I  shall  never  rest  again  until  you  are  my 


302  FACE  TO  FACE. 

wife.  This  plot  has  failed  ;  Miss  Darrell  will  plot  again  to  part 
us.  I  cannot  wait  until  the  spring — you  must  be  my  wife  be- 
fore then.  To-morrow  morning  I  shall  ride  over  to  talk  to  you 
about  it." 

She  clasped  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  raised  her  sweet 
face  to  his. 

"Aubrey,"  she  said,  wistfully,  "you  are  not  deceiving  me?" 

"'No,  my  darling,  I  am  not." 

He  bent  down  and  kissed  her  lips.     She  looked  at  him  again, 
pleadingly,  wistfully. 

"Heaven  will  judge  between  us,  Aubrey,"  she  said,  solemnly. 
"I  have  a  sure  conviction  that  I  shall  know  the  truth." 

"I  hope  Heaven  will  assist  you,"  he  returned,  lightly;   "I 
am  quite  sure  the  decision  will  be  in  my  favor. " 

And  those  words,  so  wickedly,  so  blasphemously  false,  were 
the  last  he  ever  spoke  to  her, 


DYING  IN  SIN. 


3<>3 


CHAPTER  XL. 

DYING    IN    SIN. 

Captain  Langton  left  Lady  Darrell  at  the  door  of  the  porch, 
and  went  round  to  the  stables.  He  was  a  man  as  utterly  devoid 
of  principle  as  any  man  could  well  be,  yet  the  untruths  he  had 
told,  the  false  testimony  he  had  given,  the  false  oaths  he  had 
taken,  had  shaken  his  nerves. 

"I  should  not  care  to  go  through  such  a  scene  as  that  again," 
he  said — ' '  to  stand  before  two  women  as  before  my  judges. " 

He  found  his  hands  unsteady  and  his  limbs  trembling ;  the 
horse  he  had  to  ride  was  a  spirited  one.  The  captain  half  stag- 
gered as  he  placed  his  hand  on  the  saddle. 

"I  am  not  very  well,"  he  said  to  one  of  the  grooms ;  "go  to 
the  house  and  tell  Frampton,  the  butler,  to  bring  some  brandy 
here. " 

In  a  few  minutes  the  butler  appeared  with  a  tray,  on  which 
stood  bottle  and  glass. 

"This  is  some  very  old  brandy,  sir,"  he  said,  "and  very 
strong. " 

But  Captain  Langton  did  not  appear  to  heed  him ;  he  poured 


304  DYING  IN  SIN. 

out  half  a  tumblerful  and  drank  it,  while  the  butler  looked  on 
in  amazement. 

"It  is  very  strong,  sir/'  he  repeated. 

' '  I  know  what  I  am  doing, "  returned  the  captain,  with  an 
oath. 

He  was  dizzy  with  fear  and  with  his  after-success ;  he  shud- 
dered again  as  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  the  memory  of  Pau- 
line's face  and  Pauline's  words  came  over  him.  Then  he  gal- 
loped off,  and  Frampton,  turning  to  the  groom,  with  a  scared 
face,  said : 

"If  he  gets  home  safely  after  taking  so  much  of  that  brandy, 
and  with  that  horse,  I  will  never  venture  to  say  what  I  think 

again. " 

******* 

Lady  Darrell  returned  to  the  library,  where  she  had  left  Pau- 
line. They  looked  at  each  other  in  silence,  and  then  Lady 
Darrell  said  : 

"I — I  believe  in  him,  Pauline;  he  cannot  be  what  you  say." 
Miss  Darrell  rose  and  went  up  to  her ;  she  placed  her  in  a 
chair,  and  knelt  at  her  feet. 

"You  do  not  believe  what  I  have  told  you?"  she  questioned, 
gently. 

"I  cannot;  my  love  and  my  faith  are  all  his." 
' '  I  have  done  my  best, "  said  Pauline,  sorrowfully,  ' '  and  I 
can  do  no  more.     While  I  live  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  that 
I  did  not  speak  sooner,  Lady  Darrell.     Elinor,  I  shall  kneel 
here  until  you  promise  to  forgive  me." 


DYING  IN  SIN.  305 

Then  Lady  Darrell  looked  at  the  beautiful  face,  with  its  ex- 
pression of  humility. 

''Pauline,"  she  said,  suddenly,  "I  hardly  recognize  you. 
What  has  come  to  you  ?  What  has  changed  you  ?" 

Her  face  crimson  with  hot  blushes,  Pauline  answered  her. 

"It  is  to  me,"  she  said,  "as  though  a  vail  had  fallen  from 
before  my  eyes.  I  can  see  my  sin  in  all  its  enormity.  I  can 
see  to  what  my  silence  has  led,  and,  though  you  may  not  believe 
me,  I  shall  never  rest  until  you  say  that  you  have  forgiven  me. " 

Lady  Darrell  was  not  a  woman  given  to  strong  emotion  of 
any  kind ;  the  deepest  passion  of  her  life  was  her  love  for 
Aubrey  Langton ;  but  even  she  could  give  some  faint  guess  as 
to  what  it  had  cost  the  proud,  willful  Pauline  to  undergo  this 
humiliation. 

"I  do  forgive  you,"  she  said.  "No  matter  how  deeply  you 
have  disliked  me,  or  in  what  way  you  have  plotted  against  me,  I 
cannot  refuse  you.  I  forgive  you,  Pauline." 

Miss  Darrell  held  up  her  face. 

"Will  you  kiss  me?"  she  asked.  "I  have  never  made  that 
request  in  all  my  life  before,  but  I  make  it  now. " 

Lady  Darrell  bent  down  and  kissed  her,  while  the  gloom  of 
the  evening  fell  round  them  and  deepened  into  night 

"  If  I  only  knew  what  to  believe!"  Lady  Darrcll  remarked 
"First  my  heart  turns  to  him,  Pauline,  and  then  it  turns  to 
you.  Yet  both  cannot  be  right — one  must  be  most  wicked  and 
most  false.  You  have  truth  in  your  face — he  had  truth  on  his 


3o6  DYING  IN  SIN. 

lips  when  he  was  talking  to  me.  Oh,  if  I  knew — if  I  only 
knew  1" 

And  when  she  had  repeated  this  many  times,  Pauline  said  to 
her: 

" Leave  it  to  Heaven;  he  has  agreed  that  Heaven  shall  judge 
between  us,  and  it  will.  Whoever  has  told  the  lie  shall  perish 
in  it. " 

So  some  hours  passed,  and  the  change  that  had  come  over 
Lady  Darrell  was  almost  pitiful  to  see.  Her  fair  face  was  all 
drawn  and  haggard,  the  brightness  had  all  left  it.  It  was  as 
though  years  of  most  bitter  sorrow  had  passed  over  her.  They 
had  spoken  to  her  of  taking  some  refreshment,  but  she  had 
sent  it  away.  She  could  do  nothing  but  pace  up  and  down  with 
wearied  step,  moaning  that  she  only  wanted  to  know  which  was 
right,  which  to  believe,  while  Pauline  sat  by  her  in  unwearied 
patience.  Suddenly  Lady  Darrell  turned  to  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  me?"  she  asked.  "I  cannot  un- 
derstand myself;  the  air  seems  full  of  whispers  and  portents — it 
is  as  though  I  were  here  awaiting  some  great  event.  What  am 
I  waiting  for?" 

They  were  terrible  words,  for  the  answer  to  them  was  a  great 
commotion  in  the  hall — the  sound  of  hurried  footsteps — of 
many  voices.  Lady  Darrell  stood  still  in  dismay. 

"What  is  it?"  she  cried.  "Oh,  Pauline,  I  am  full  of  fear— 
I  am  sorely  full  of  fear !" 

It  was  Frampton  who  opened  the  door  suddenly,  and  stood 
before  them  with  a  white,  scared  face. 


DYING  IN  SIN. 


307 


"Oh,  my  lady— my  lady  !"  he  gasped. 

"Tell  her  quickly,"  cried  Pauline;  "do  you  not  see  that 
suspense  is  dangerous?" 

"One  of  the  Court  servants,"  said  the  butler,  at  once,  in  re- 
sponse, "returning  from  Audleigh  Royal,  has  found  the  body 
of  Captain  Langton  lying  in  the  high-road,  where  his  horse  had 
thrown  him,  dragged  him,  and  left  him — dead  !" 

"  Heaven  be  merciful  to  him  !"  cried  Pauline  Darrell.  "  He 
has  died  in  his  sin." 

But  Lady  Darrell  spoke  no  words.  Perhaps  she  thought  to 
herself  that  Heaven  had  indeed  judged  between  them.  She 
said  nothing — she  trembled — a  gasping  cry  came  from  her,  and 
she  fell  face  forward  on  the  floor. 

They  raised  her  and  carried  her  up  stairs.  Pauline  never  left 
her ;  through  the  long  night-watches  and  the  long  days  she  kept 
her  place  by  her  side,  while  life  and  death  fought  fiercely  for 
her.  She  would  awake  from  her  stupor  at  times,  only  to  ask 
about  Aubrey — if  it  could  be  true  that  he  was  dead — and  then 
seemed  thankful  that  she  could  understand  no  more. 

They  did  not  think  at  first  that  she  could  recover.  Afterward 
Doctor  Helmstone  told  her  that  she  owed  her  life  to  Pauline 
Darrell's  unchanging  love  and  care. 


3o8  THE  WORK  OF  ATONEMENT. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

THE    WORK    OF    ATONEMENT. 

The  little  town  of  Audleigh  Royal  had  never  oeen  so  excited. 
It  was  such  a  terrible  accident.  Captain  Langton,  the  guest  of 
Sir  Peter  Glynn,  so  soon  to  be  master  of  Darrell  Court — a  man 
so  handsome,  so  accomplished,  and  so  universal  a  favorite — to 
be  killed  in  the  gloom  of  an  autumn  night,  on  the  high-road  1 
Society  was  grieved  and  shocked. 

"That  beautiful  young  lady  at  the  Hall,  who  loved  him  so 
dearly,  was,"  people  whispered  to  each  other,  "at  death's  door 
— so  deep  was  her  grief." 

An  inquest  was  held  at  the  "Darrell  Arms;"  and  all  the 
revelations  ever  made  as  to  the  cause  of  Captain  Langton's  death 
were  made  then.  The  butler  and  the  groom  at  Darrell  Court 
swore  to  having  felt  some  little  alarm  at  seeing  the  deceased 
drink  more  than  half  a  tumblerful  of  brandy.  The  butler's 
prophecy  that  he  would  never  reach  home  in  safety  was  repeated. 
One  of  the  men  said  that  the  captain  looked  pale  and  scared, 
as  though  he  had  seen  a  ghost ;  another  told  how  madly  he  had 
galloped  away ;  so  that  no  other  conclusion  could  be  come  to 


THE  WORK  OF  ATONEMENT.  309 

but  this — that  he  had  ridden  recklessly,  lost  all  control  over  the 
horse,  and  had  been  thrown.  There  was  proof  that  the  animal 
had  dragged  him  along  the  road  for  some  little  distance;  and  it 
was  supposed  the  fatal  wound  had  been  inflicted  when  his  head 
was  dashed  against  the  mile-stone  close  to  which  he  had  been 
found. 

It  was  very  shocking,  very  terrible.  Society  was  distressed. 
The  body  lay  at  the  "Darrell  Arms"  until  all  arrangements  had 
been  made  for  the  funeral.  Such  a  funeral  had  never  been  seen 
in  Audleigh  Royal.  Rich  and  poor,  every  one  attended. 

Captain  Langton  was  buried  in  the  pretty  little  cemetery  at 
Audleigh  ;  and  people,  as  they  stood  round  the  grave,  whispered 
to  each  other  that,  although  the  horse  that  killed  him  had  cost 
over  a  hundred  pounds,  Sir  Peter  Glynn  had  ordered  it  to  be 
shot. 

Then,  when  the  autumn  had  faded  into  winter,  the  accident 
was  forgotten.  Something  else  happened  which  drove  it  from 
people's  minds,  and  the  tragedy  of  Audleigh  Royal  became  a 
thing  of  the  past. 

Pauline  did  not  return  to  Omberleigh.  Miss  Hastings  was 
dreadfully  shocked  when  she  received  a  letter  telling  her  of  Cap- 
tain Langton's  death  and  of  Lady  Darrell's  serious  illness.  No 
persuasions  could  induce  her  to  remain  longer  away.  She  re- 
turned that  same  day  to  the  Court,  and  insisted  upon  taking  her 
share  in  the  nursing  of  Lady  Darrell. 

Lady  Hampton  looked  upon  the  captain's  accident  as  the 
direct  interposition  of  Providence.  Of  course  such  a  death  was 


3 io  THE  WORK  OF  ATONEMENT. 

very  shocking,  very  terrible ;  but  certainly  it  had  never  been  a 
match  she  approved  ;  and,  after  all,  say  what  one  would,  every- 
thing had  happened  for  the  best. 

Lady  Hampton  went  over  to  Darrell  Court,  and  assisted  in 
attending  to  the  invalid ;  but  her  thoughts  ran  more  on  Lord 
Aynsley,  and  the  chances  of  his  renewing  his  offer,  than  on  any- 
thing else.  Elinor  would  soon  recover,  there  was  no  fear ;  the 
shock  to  her  nerves  had  been  great,  but  people  never  died  of 
nervousness ;  and,  when  she  did  get  well,  Lady  Hampton  in- 
tended to  propose  a  season  in  London. 

But  Lady  Darrell  did  not  get  well  as  soon  as  Lady  Hampton 
had  anticipated.  Indeed,  more  than  one  clever  doctor,  on  leav- 
ing her  presence,  shook  his  head  gravely,  and  said  it  was  doubt- 
ful whether  Lady  Darrell  would  ever  recover  at  all ;  the  shock 
to  her  nerves  had  been  terrible. 

But  there  was  something  to  be  said  also  of  a  blighted  life  and 
a  broken  heart 

Autumn  had  diifted  into  winter;  and  one  morning  Lady 
Darrell,  who  had  been  sleeping  more  soundly  than  usual,  sud- 
denly turned  to  Pauline,  who  seldom  left  her. 

' '  Pauline, "  she  whispered,  ' '  you  have  not  told  any  one,  have 
you?" 

"Told  what?"  she  inquired. 

"About  poor  Aubrey's  faults.  I  know  now  that  he  was 
guilty.  Strange,  solemn  thoughts,  strange  revelations,  come  to 
us,  are  made  to  us  in  sickness,  when  we  lie,  where  I  have  been 
lying,  in  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  I  know  that  he 


THE  WORK  OF  A  TONEMENT.  3 1 1 

was  "guilty,  and  that  he  died  in  his  sin.  I  know  it  now,  Pau- 
line." 

Miss  Darrell  bent  over  her  and  kissed  the  white  brow. 

"Listen  to  me,  dear,"  continued  the  weak  voice.  "Let  this 
secret  die  with  us — let  there  be  a  bond  between  us  never  to  re- 
veal it.  You  will  never  tell  any  one  about  it,  will  you,  Pau- 
line?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  "never.  I  should  never  have  told  you 
but  that  I  hoped  to  save  you  from  a  dreadful  fate — and  it  would 
have  been  a  dreadful  fate  for  you  to  have  married  him ;  he  would 
have  broken  your  heart. " 

"It  is  broken  now,"  she  said,  gently.  "Yet  it  comforts  me 
to  know  that  no  reproach  will  be  heaped  on  Aubrey's  memory." 

"You  will  get  better,"  observed  Pauline,  hopefully,  "and 
then  there  will  be  happier  days  in  store  for  you." 

"There  will  be  no  happy  days  for  me,"  returned  Lady  Dar- 
rell, sorrowfully.  "You  see,  Pauline,  I  loved  him  very  dearly 
— more  dearly  than  I  knew.  I  had  never  loved  any  one  very 
much  until  I  saw  him.  I  could  more  easily  have  checked  a 
raging  fire  than  have  restrained  my  love  after  I  had  once  given 
it.  My  life  had  in  some  way  passed  into  his,  and  now  I  do  not 
care  to  live. " 

"But  you  have  so  much  to  live  for,"  said  Pauline. 

"Not  now.  I  do  not  care  for  aught  about  me.  I  have  tried 
to  remember  Darrell  Court  and  all  my  wealth  and  grandeur, 
but  they  give  me  no  pleasure — the  shadow  of  death  lies  over 
all." 


312  THE  WORK  OF  ATONEMENT. 

And  it  was  all  in  vain  that  Pauline  tried  to  rouse  her ;  Lady 
Darrell,  after  her  unhappy  love,  never  cared  to  be  roused  again. 
Lady  Hampton  would  not  think  seriously  of  her  illness — it 
would  pass  away  in  time,  she  said ;  but  Miss  Hastings  shook 
her  head  gravely,  and  feared  the  worst. 

The  time  came  when  Pauline  told  some  part  of  her  story  to 
the  governess.  She  did  not  mention  Aubrey's  crime — that 
secret  she  kept  until  death — but  she  gave  a  sketch  of  what  had 
passed  between  her  and  Lady  Darrell. 

"Did  I  do  right?"  she  asked,  with  that  sweet  humility  which 
had  vanquished  all  pride  in  her. 

"You  acted  worthily,"  replied  Miss  Hastings,  while  she  mar- 
veled at  the  transformation  which  love  had  wrought  in  that 
once  proud,  willful  girl. 

Time  passed  on,  and  by  the  wish  of  Miss  Hastings  a  cel- 
ebrated physician  was  sent  for  from  London,  for  Lady  Darrell 
grew  no  better.  His  opinion  sounded  somewhat  like  a  death- 
warrant. 

* '  She  may  recover  sufficiently  to  quit  her  room  and  to  linger 
on  in  life — how  long  is  uncertain ;  but  the  shock  to  her  nerves 
she  will  never  fully  recover  from — while  she  lives  she  will  be  a 
victim  to  nervousness.  But  I  do  not  think  she  will  live  long. 
Let  her  have  as  much  cheerful  society  as  possible,  without 
fatigue;  nothing  more  can  be  done  for  her." 

And  with  that  they  were  obliged  to  be  content.  Lady  Hamp- 
ton would  not  admit  that  the  London  physician  was  correct. 

"Nerves  are  all   nonsense,"   she   said,   brusquely.      "How 


THE  WORK  OF  ATONEMENT.  313 

many  nervous  shocks  have  I  been  through,  with  husband  dead 
and  children  dead  ?  Elinor's  only  danger  is  her  mother's  com- 
plaint. She  died  of  consumption  quite  young." 

It  was  found,  however,  despite  Lady  Hampton's  disbelief, 
that  the  London  physician  had  spoken  truthfully.  Lady  Dar- 
rell  rose  from  her  sick  bed,  but  she  was  but  the  shadow  of  her- 
self, and  a  victim  to  a  terrible  nervous  disorder. 

Miss  Hastings  watched  over  her  with  great  anxiety,  but  Pau- 
line was  like  a  second  self  to  the  unhappy  lady.  They  were 
speaking  of  her  one  day,  and  Miss  Hastings  said  : 

"An  illness  like  Lady  DarreH's  is  so  uncertain,  Pauline  ;  you 
must  not  occupy  yourself  with  her  so  entirely,  or  you  will  lose 
your  own  health. " 

But  Pauline  looked  up  with  a  smile — perhaps  the  gravest,  the 
sweetest  and  most  tender  her  face  had  ever  worn. 

"I  shall  never  leave  her,"  she  returned. 

"Never  leave  her?"  questioned  Miss  Hastings. 

"No.  I  shall  stay  with  her  to  comfort  her  while  life  lasts, 
and  that  will  be  my  atonement" 


3 14  LOVE  AND  SORROW. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

LOVE   AND   SORROW. 

The  beautiful  golden  summer  came  round,  and  Darrell  Court 
looked  picturesque  and  lovely  with  its  richness  of  foliage  and 
flush  of  flowers.  The  great  magnolia  trees  were  all  in  bloom 
— the  air  was  full  of  their  delicate,  subtle  perfume ;  the  chest- 
nuts were  in  bloom,  the  limes  all  in  blossom.  Sweet  summer 
had  scattered  her  treasures  with  no  niggard  hand;  and  Lady 
Darrell  had  lived  to  see  the  earth  rejoice  once  more. 

Under  the  limes,  where  the  shadows  of  the  graceful,  tremu- 
lous, scented  leaves  fell  on  the  grass — the  limes  that  were  never 
still,  but  always  responding  to  some  half-hidden  whisper  of  the 
wind — stood  Pauline  Darrell  and  her  lover,  Sir  Vane  St.  Law- 
rence. They  had  met  but  once  since  their  hurried  parting  at 
Omberleigh.  Vane  had  been  to  Darrell  Court — for  their  en- 
gagement was  no  secret  now.  They  wrote  to  each  other  con- 
stantly. 

On  this  fair  June  day  Sir  Vane  had  come  to  the  Court  with 
news  that  stirred  the  depths  of  the  girl's  heart  as  a  fierce  wind 
stirs  the  ripples  on  a  lake. 


LOVE  AND  SORROW. 


3'5 


As  the  sunlight  fell  through  the  green  leaves  and  rested  on 
her,  the  change  in  her  was  wonderful  to  see.  The  beautiful, 
noble  face  had  lost  all  its  pride,  all  its  defiance ;  the  play  of  the 
lips  was  tremulous,  sensitive,  and  gentle ;  the  light  in  the  dark 
eyes  was  of  love  and  kindness.  Time  had  added  to  her  loveli- 
ness ;  the  grand,  statuesque  figure  had  developed  more  perfect- 
ly; the  graceful  attitudes,  the  unconscious  harmony,  the  in- 
definable grace  and  fascination  were  more  apparent  than  ever. 
But  she  no  longer  carried  her  grand  beauty  as  a  protest,  but 
made  it  rather  the  crown  of  a  pure  and  perfect  womanhood. 

Something  dimmed  the  brightness  of  her  face,  for  Sir  Vane 
had  come  to  her  with  strange  news  and  a  strange  prayer.  His 
arm  was  clasped  round  her  as  they  walked  under  the  shadow  of 
the  limes  where  lovers'  footsteps  had  so  often  strayed. 

"Yes,  Pauline,  it  has  come  so  unexpectedly  at  last, "  spoke 
Sir  Vane.  "Ever  since  Graveton  has  been  in  office,  my  dear 
mother  has  been  unwearied  in  asking  for  an  appointment  for 
me.  You  know  the  story  of  our  impoverished  fortunes,  and 
how  anxious  my  dear  mother  is  to  retrieve  them. " 

Her  hand  seemed  to  tighten  its  clasp  on  his,  as  she  an- 
swered : 

"Yes,  I  know/' 

"Now  an  opportunity  has  come.  Graveton,  in  answer  to  my 
mother's  continued  requests,  has  found  for  me  a  most  lucrative 
office ;  but,  alas,  my  love,  it  is  in  India,  and  I  must  shortly  set 
out" 


316  LOVE  AND  SORROW. 

"In  India!"  repeated  Pauline;  "and  you  must  set  out 
shortly,  Vane?  How  soon?" 

"In  a  fortnight  from  now,"  he  answered.  "It  is  an  office 
that  requires  filling  up  at  once,  Pauline.  I  have  come  to  ask  if 
you  will  accompany  me?  Will  you  pardon  the  short  notice, 
and  let  me  take  my  wife  with  me  to  that  far-off  land  ?  Do  not 
let  me  go  alone  into  exile — come  with  me,  darling." 

The  color  and  light  died  out  of  her  beautiful  face,  her  lips 
quivered,  and  her  eyes  grew  dim  as  with  unshed  tears. 

"I  cannot,"  she  replied;  and  there  was  a  silence  between 
them  that  seemed  full  of  pain. 

"You  cannot,  Pauline  !"  he  cried,  and  the  sadness  and  disap- 
pointment in  his  voice  made  her  lips  quiver  again.  "Surely 
you  will  not  allow  any  feminine  nonsense  about  dress  and  pre- 
parations, any  scruple  about  the  shortness  of  time,  to  come  be- 
tween us?  My  mother  bade  me  say  that  if  you  will  consent 
she  will  busy  herself  night  and  day  to  help  us  to  prepare.  She 
bade  me  add  her  prayer  to  mine.  Oh,  Pauline,  why  do  you 
say  you  cannot  accompany  me?" 

The  first  shock  had  passed  for  her,  and  she  raised  her  noble 
face  to  his. 

"From  no  nonsense,  Vane,"  she  said.  "You  should  know 
me  better,  dear,  than  that.  Nothing  can  part  us  but  one  thing. 
Were  it  not  for  that,  I  would  go  with  you  to  the  very  end  of  the 
world — I  would  work  for  you  and  with  you. " 

"But  what  is  it,  Pauline?''  he  asked.  "What  is  it,  my 
darlim??" 


LOVE  AND  SORRO W.  3 , 7 

She  clung  to  him  more  closely  still. 

"I  cannot  leave  her,  Vane— I  cannot  leave  Lady  Darrell. 
She  is  dying  slowly— hour  by  hour,  day  by  day— and  I  cannot 
leave  her." 

"But,  my  darling  Pauline,  there  are  others  beside  you  to  at- 
tend to  the  lady — Lady  Hampton  and  Miss  Hastings.  Why 
should  you  give  up  your  life  thus  ?" 

"Why?"  she  repeated.  "You  know  why,  Vane.  It  is  the 
only  atonement  I  can  offer  her.  Heaven  knows  how  gladly, 
how  happily,  I  would  this  moment  place  my  hand  in  yours  and 
accompany  you ;  my  heart  longs  to  do  so.  You  are  all  I  have 
in  the  world,  and  how  I  love  you  you  know,  Vane.  But  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  owe  Lady  Darrell  this  reparation,  and  at  the 
price  of  my  whole  life's  happiness  I  must  make  it." 

He  drew  her  nearer  to  him,  and  kissed  the  trembling  lips. 

"She  has  suffered  so  much,  Vane,  through  me — all  through 
me.  If  I  had  but  foregone  my  cruel  vengeance,  and  vhen  she 
came  to  me  with  doubt  in  her  heart  if  I  had  but  spoken  one 
word,  the  chances  are  that  by  this  time  she  would  have  been 
Lady  Aynsley,  and  I  should  have  been  free  to  accompany  you, 
my  beloved ;  but  I  must  suffer  for  my  sin.  I  ought  to  suffer, 
and  I  ought  to  atone  to  her. " 

"Your  life,  my  darling,"  he  said,  "your  beautiful  bright  life. 
your  love,  your  happiness,  will  all  be  sacrificed." 

"They  must  be.  You  see,  Vane,  she  clings  to  me  in  her 
sorrow.  His  name — Aubrey  Langton's  name — never  passes  her 
lips  to  any  one  else  but  me.  She  talks  of  him  the  night  and 


3i8  LOVE  AND  SORROW. 

the  day  through — it  is  the  only  comfort  she  has ;  and  then  she 
likes  me  to  be  with  her,  to  talk  to  her,  and  soothe  her,  and  she 
tires  so  soon  of  any  one  else.  I  cannot  leave  her,  Vane — it 
would  shorten  her  life,  I  am  sure." 

He  made  no  answer.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  tearful 
eyes. 

"Speak  to  me,  Vane.  It  is  hard,  I  know — but  tell  me  that 
I  am  right." 

"You  are  cruelly  right,"  he  replied.  "Oh,  my  darling,  it  is 
very  hard  !  Yet  you  make  her  a  noble  atonement  for  the  wrong 
you  have  done — a  noble  reparation.  My  darling,  is  this  how 
your  vow  of  vengeance  has  ended — in  the  greatest  sacrifice  a 
woman  could  make." 

"Your  love  has  saved  me,"  she  said,  gently — "has  shown 
me  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong — has  cleared  the  mist  from 
my  eyes.  But  for  that — oh,  Vane,  I  hate  to  think  what  I 
should  have  been  !" 

"I  wish  it  were  possible  to  give  up  the  appointment,"  he  re- 
marked, musingly. 

"I  would  not  have  you  do  it,  Vane.  Think  of  Lady  St. 
Lawrence — how  she  has  worked  for  it.  Remember,  it  is  your 
only  chance  of  ever  being  what  she  wishes  to  see  you.  You 
must  not  give  it  up. " 

"But  how  can  I  leave  you,  Pauline?" 

"If  you  remain  in  England,  it  will  make  but  little  differ- 
ence," she  said.  "I  can  never  leave  Lady  Darrell  while  she 
lives. " 


LOVE  AND  SORROW.  319 

"But,  Pauline,  it  may  be  four,  five,  or  six  years  before  I  re- 
turn, and  all  that  time  I  shall  never  see  you." 

She  wrung  her  hands,  but  no  murmur  passed  her  lips,  save 
that  it  was  her  fault — all  her  fault — the  price  of  her  sin. 

"Vane,"  she  said,  "you  must  not  tell  Lady  Darrell  what  you 
came  to  ask  me.  She  must  know  that  you  are  here  only  to  say 
good-by.  I  would  rather  keep  her  in  ignorance ;  she  will  be 
the  happier  for  not  knowing. " 

Was  ever  anything  seen  like  that  love  and  that  sorrow — the 
love  of  two  noble  souls,  two  noble  hearts,  and  the  sorrow  that 
parting  more  bitter  than  death  brought  upon  them?  Even 
Miss  Hastings  did  not  know  until  long  after  Sir  Vane  was  gone 
of  the  sacrifice  Pauline  had  made  in  the  brave  endeavor  to 
atone  for  her  sin. 

She  never  forgot  the  agony  of  that  parting — how  Sir  Vane 
stood  before  them,  pale,  worn,  and  sad,  impressing  one  thing 
on  them  all — care  for  his  darling.  Even  to  Lady  Darrell,  the 
frail,  delicate  invalid,  whose  feeble  stock  of  strength  seemed  to 
be  derived  from  Pauline,  he  gave  many  charges. 

"It  will  be  so  long  before  I  see  her  again,"  he  said;  "but 
you  will  keep  her  safely  for  me. " 

"I  almost  wonder,"  said  Lady  Darrell,  "why  you  do  not  ask 
Pauline  to  accompany  you,  Sir  Vane.  For  my  own  sake,  I  am 
most  selfishly  glad  that  you  have  not  done  so — I  should  soon 
die  without  her. " 

They  looked  at  each  other,  the  two  who  were  giving  up  so 
much  for  her,  but  spoke  no  word 


320  LOVE  AND  SORROW. 

Sir  Vane  was  obliged  to  return  to  London  that  same  day. 
He  spoke  of  seeing  Pauline  again,  but  she  objected — it  would 
only  be  a  renewal  of  most  bitter  and  hopeless  sorrow.  So  they 
bade  each  other  farewell  under  the  lime-trees.  The  bitter  yet 
sweet  memory  of  it  lasted  them  for  life. 

Miss  Hastings  understood  somewhat  of  the  pain  it  would 
cause,  but  with  her  gentle  consideration,  she  thought  it  best  to 
leave  Pauline  for  a  time.  Hours  afterward  she  went  in  search 
of  her,  and  found  her  under  the  limes,  weeping  and  moaning 
for  the  atonement  she  had  made  for  her  sin. 


JLADY DARRELL'S  WILL.  321 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 
LADY    DARRELL'S    WILL. 

Two  years  passed  away,  and  Sir  Vane  St.  Lawrence's  circum- 
stances were  rapidly  improving;  his  letters  were  constant  and 
cheerful — he  spoke  always  of  the  time  when  he  should  come 
home  and  claim  Pauline  for  his  wife.  She  only  sighed  as  she 
read  the  hopeful  words,  for  she  had  resolved  that  duty  should 
be  her  watchword  while  Lady  Darrell  lived — even  should  that 
frail,  feeble  life  last  for  fifty  years,  she  would  never  leave  her. 

There  came  to  her  chill  doubts  and  fears,  dim,  vague  fore- 
bodings that  she  should  never  see  Vane  again — that  their  last 
parting  was  for  ever;  not  that  she  doubted  him,  but  that  it 
seemed  hopeless  to  think  he  would  wait  until  her  hair  was  gray, 
and  the  light  of  her  youth  had  left  her. 

Never  mind — she  had  done  her  duty;  she  had  sinned,  but 
she  had  made  the  noblest  atonement  possible  for  her  sin. 

Two  years  had  passed,  and  the  summer  was  drawing  to  a 
close.  To  those  who  loved  and  tended  her  it  seemed  that  Lady 
Darrell's  life  was  closing  with  it.  Even  Lady  Hampton  had 


322  LADY  DARRELL' S  WILL. 

ceased  to  speak  hopefully,  and  Darrell  Court  was  gloomy  with 
the  shadow  of  the  angel  of  death. 

There  came  an  evening  when  earth  was  very  lovely — when 
the  gold  of  the  setting  sun,  the  breath  of  the  western  wind,  the 
fragrance  of  the  flowers,  the  ripple  of  the  fountains,  the  song  of 
the  birds,  were  all  beautiful  beyond  words  to  tell ;  and  Lady 
Darrell,  who  had  lain  watching  the  smiling  summer  heavens, 
said  : 

"I  should  like  once  more  to  see  the  sun  set,  Pauline.  I 
should  like  to  sit  at  the  window,  and  watch  the  moon  rise. " 

"So  you  shall,"  responded  Pauline.  "  You  are  a  fairy  queen. 
You  have  but  to  wish,  and  the  wish  is  granted. " 

Lady  Darrell  smiled — no  one  ever  made  her  smile  except 
Pauline ;  but  the  fulfillment  of  the  wish  was  not  so  easy  after 
all.  Lady  Hampton's  foreboding  was  realized.  Lady  Darrell 
might  have  recovered  from  her  long,  serious  illness  but  that  her 
mother's  complaint,  the  deadly  inheritance  of  consumption,  had 
seized  upon  her,  and  was  gradually  destroying  her. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  now  to  dress  the  wasted  figure;  but 
Pauline  seemed  to  have  the  strength,  the  energy  of  twenty 
nurses.  She  was  always  willing,  always  cheerful,  always  ready ; 
night  and  day  seemed  alike  to  her;  she  would  look  at  her 
hands,  and  say  : 

' '  Oh  !  Elinor,  I  wish  I  could  give  you  one-half  my  strength 
— one-half  my  life  I" 

"Do  you?  Pauline,  if  you  could  give  me  half  your  life, 
would  you  do  so?" 


LADY  DARNELL'S  WILL.  323 

"As  willingly  as  I  am  now  speaking  to  you,"  she  would 
answer. 

They  dressed  the  poor  lady,  whose  delicate  beauty  had  faded 
like  some  summer  flower.  She  sat  at  the  window  in  a  soft  nest 
of  cushions  which  Pauline  had  prepared  for  her,  her  wasted 
hands  folded,  her  worn  face  brightened  with  the  summer  sun- 
shine. She  was  very  silent  and  thoughtful  for  some  time,  and 
then  Pauline,  fearing  that  she  was  dull,  knelt  in  the  fashion  that 
was  usual  to  her  at  Lady  Darrell's  feet,  and  held  the  wasted 
hands  in  hers. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about,  Elinor?"  Pauline  asked. 
"Something  as  bright  as  the  sunshine?" 

Lady  Darrell  smiled. 

' '  I  was  just  fancying  to  myself  that  every  blossom  of  that 
white  magnolia  seemed  like  a  finger  beckoning  me  away,"  she 
said ;  ' '  and  I  was  thinking  also  how  full  of  mistakes  life  is,  and 
how  plainly  they  can  be  seen  when  we  come  to  die. " 

Pauline  kissed  the  thin  fingers.     Lady  Darrell  went  on. 

"I  can  see  my  own  great  mistake,  Pauline.  I  should  not 
have  married  Sir  Oswald.  I  had  no  love  for  him — not  the  least 
in  the  world  ;  I  married  him  only  for  position  and  fortune.  I 
should  have  taken  your  warning,  and  not  have  come  between 
your  uncle  and  you.  His  resentment  would  have  died  away, 
for  I  am  quite  sure  that  in  his  heart  he  loved  you ;  he  would 
have  forgiven  you,  and  I  should  have  had  a  happier,  longer  life. 
That  was  my  mistake — my  one  great  mistake.  Another  was 
that  I  had  a  certain  kind  of  doubt  about  poor  Aubrey.  I  can- 


324  LADY DARRELL' S  WILL. 

not  explain  it ;  but  I  know  that  I  doubted  him  even  when  I 
loved  him,  and  I  should  have  waited  some  time  before  placing 
the  whole  happiness  of  my  life  in  his  hands.  Yet  it  seems  hard 
to  pay  for  those  mistakes  with  my  life,  does  it  not  ?" 

And  Pauline,  to  whom  all  sweet  and  womanly  tenderness 
seemed  to  come  by  instinct,  soothed  Lady  Darrell  with  loving 
words  until  she  smiled  again. 

"Pauline,"  she  said,  suddenly,  "I  wish  to  communicate 
something  to  you.  I  wish  to  tell  you  that  I  have  made  my  will, 
and  have  left  Darrell  Court  to  you,  together  with  all  the  fortune 
Sir  Oswald  left  me.  I  took  your  inheritance  from  you  once, 
dear;  now  I  restore  it  to  you.  I  have  left  my  aunt,  Lady 
Hampton,  a  thousand  a  year;  you  will  not  mind  that — it 
comes  back  to  you  at  her  death. " 

' '  I  do  not  deserve  your  kindness, "  said  Pauline,  gravely. 

"Yes,  you  do;  and  you  will  do  better  with  your  uncle's 
wealth  than  I  have  done.  I  have  only  been  dead  in  life.  My 
heart  was  broken — and  I  have  had  no  strength,  no  energy.  I 
have  done  literally  nothing ;  but  you  will  act  differently,  Pau- 
line— you  are  a  true  Darrell,  and  you  will  keep  up  the  true 
traditions  of  your  race.  In  my  poor,  feeble  hands  they  have  all 
fallen  through.  If  Sir  Vane  returns,  you  will  marry  him ;  and, 
oh !  my  darling,  I  wish  you  a  happy  life.  As  for  me,  I  shall 
never  see  the  sun  set  again. " 

The  feeble  voice  died  away  in  a  tempest  of  tears ;  and  Pau- 
line, frightened,  made  haste  to  speak  of  something  else  to 
change  the  current  of  her  thoughts. 


LADY  DARRELL'S  WILL.  325 

But  Lady  Darrell  was  right.  She  never  saw  the  sun  set  or 
the  moon  rise  again — the  frail  life  ended  gently  as  a  child  falls 
asleep.  She  died  the  next  day,  when  the  sun  was  shining  its 
brightest  at  noon ;  and  her  death  was  so  calm  that  they  thought 
it  sleep. 

She  was  buried,  not  in  the  Darrell  vault,  but,  by  Pauline's 
desire,  in  the  pretty  cemetery  at  Audleigh  Royal.  Her  death 
proved  no  shock,  for  every  one  had  expected  it.  Universal 
sympathy  and  kindness  followed  her  to  her  grave.  The  short 
life  was  ended,  and  its  annals  were  written  in  sand. 

Lady  Hampton  had  given  way;  her  old  dislike  of  Pauline 
had  changed  into  deep  admiration  of  her  sweet,  womanly  vir- 
tues, her  graceful  humility. 

' '  If  any  one  had  ever  told  me, "  she  said,  ' '  that  Pauline  Dar- 
rell would  have  turned  out  as  she  has,  I  could  not  have  believed 
it.  The  way  in  which  she  devoted  herself  to  my  niece  was 
wonderful.  I  can  only  say  that  in  my  opinion  she  deserves 
Darrell  Court/' 

The  legacy  made  Lady  Hampton  very  happy;  it  increased 
her  income  so  handsomely  that  she  resolved  to  live  no  longer  at 
the  Elms,  but  to  return  to  London,  where  the  happiest  part  of 
her  life  had  been  spent. 

"I  shall  come  to  Darrell  Court  occasionally,"  she  said,  "so 
that  you  may  not  quite  forget  me ;"  and  Pauline  was  surprised 
to  find  that  she  felt  nothing  save  regret  at  parting  with  one 
whom  she  had  disliked  with  all  the  injustice  of  youth. 

A  few  months  afterward  came  a  still  greater  surprise.     The 


326  LADY  DARRELL'S  WILL. 

lover  from  whom  Miss  Hastings  had  been  parted  in  her  early 
youth— who  had  left  England  for  Russia  long  years  ago,  and 
whom  she  had  believed  dead — returned  to  England,  and  never 
rested  until  he  had  found  his  lost  love. 

In  vain  the  gentle,  kind-hearted  lady  protested  that  she  was 
too  old  to  marry — that  she  had  given  up  all  thoughts  of  love. 
Mr.  Bereton  would  not  hear  of  it,  and  Pauline  added  her  en- 
treaties to  his. 

"But  I  cannot  leave  you,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Hastings. 
"You  cannot  live  all  by  yourself." 

"I  shall  most  probably  have  to  spend  my  life  alone,"  she 
replied,  "and  I  will  not  have  your  happiness  sacrificed  to 
mine." 

Between  her  lover  and  her  pupil  Miss  Hastings  found  all  re- 
sistance hopeless.  Pauline  took  a  positive  delight  and  pleasure 
in  the  preparations  for  the  marriage,  and,  in  spite  of  all  that 
Miss  Hastings  could  say  to  the  contrary,  she  insisted  upon  set- 
tling a  very  handsome  income  upon  her. 

There  was  a  tone  of  sadness  in  all  that  Pauline  said  with 
reference  to  her  future  which  struck  Miss  Hastings  with  wonder. 

"You  never  speak  of  your  own  marriage,"  she  said,  "or 
your  own  future — why  is  it,  Pauline  ?" 

The  beautiful  face  was  overshadowed  for  a  moment,  and  then 
she  replied : 

"It  is  because  I  have  no  hope.  I  had  a  presentiment  when 
Vane  went  away,  that  I  should  not  see  him  again.  There  are 


LADY  DARRELL 'S  WILL.  327 

some  strange  thoughts  always  haunting  me.     If  I  reap  as  I  have 
sowed,  what  then  ?" 

"My  dear  child,  no  one  could  do  more  than  you  have  done. 
You  repented  of  your  fault,  and  atoned  for  it  in  the  best  way 
you  were  able. " 

But  the  lovely  face  only  grew  more  sad. 

"I  was  so  willful,  so  proud,  so  scornful.  I  did  not  deserve 
a  happy  life.  I  am  trying  to  forget  all  the  romance  and  the 
love,  all  the  poetry  of  my  youth,  and  to  live  only  for  my  duty. " 

"But  Sir  Vane  will  come  back,"  said  Miss  Hastings. 

"I  do  not  know — all  hope  seemed  to  die  in  my  heart  when 
he  went  away.  But  let  us  talk  of  you  and  your  future  without 
reference  to  mine." 

******* 

Miss  Hastings  was  married,  and  after  she  had  gone  away 
Pauline  Darrell  was  left  alone  with  her  inheritance  at  last. 


328  SHADO  W  OF  ABSENT  LO  VE. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

SHADOW    OF    ABSENT    LOVE. 

Six  years  had  passed  since  the  marriage  of  the  governess  left 
Miss  Darrell  alone,  She  heard  as  constantly  as  ever  from  Sir 
Vane ;  he  had  made  money  rapidly.  It  was  no  longer  the  de- 
sire to  make  a  fortune  which  kept  him  away,  but  the  fact  that 
in  the  part  of  the  country  where  he  was  great  danger  existed, 
and  that,  having  been  placed  there  in  a  situation  of  trust,  he 
could  not  well  leave  it;  so  of  late  a  hopeless  tone  had  crept 
into  his  letters.  He  made  no  reference  to  coming  home ;  and 
Pauline,  so  quick,  so  sensitive,  saw  in  this  reticence  the  shadow 
of  her  own  presentiment. 

Six  years  had  changed  Pauline  Darrell  from  a  beautiful  girl 
to  a  magnificent  woman ;  her  beauty  was  of  that  grand  and 
queenly  kind  that  of  itself  is  a  noble  dowry.  The  years  had 
but  added  to  it.  They  had  given  a  more  statuesque  grace  to 
the  perfect  figure;  they  had  added  tenderness,  thought,  and 
spirituality  to  the  face ;  they  had  given  to  her  beauty  a  charm 
that  it  had  never  worn  in  her  younger  days. 

Miss  Darrell,  of  Darrell  Court,  had  made  for  herself  a  won- 


SHADOW  OF  ABSENT  LOVE.  329 

derful  reputation.  There  was  no  estate  in  England  so  well 
managed  as  hers.  From  one  end  to  the  other  the  Darrell 
domain  was,  people  said,  a  garden.  Pauline  had  done  away 
with  the  old  cottages  and  ill-drained  farm-houses,  and  in  their 
stead  pretty  and  commodious  buildings  had  been  erected.  She 
had  fought  a  long  and  fierce  battle  with  ignorance  and  prejudice, 
and  she  had  won. 

She  had  established  schools  where  children  were  taught,  first 
to  be  good  Christians,  and  then  good  citizens,  and  where  useful 
knowledge  was  made  much  of.  She  had  erected  almshouses 
for  the  poor,  and  a  church  where  rich  and  poor,  old  and  young, 
could  worship  God  together.  The  people  about  her  rose  up 
and  called  her  blessed;  tenants,  dependents,  servants,  all  had 
but  one  word  for  her,  and  that  was  of  highest  praise.  To  do 
good  seemed  the  object  of  her  life,  and  she  had  succeeded  so 
far. 

No  young  queen  was  ever  more  popular  or  more  beloved 
than  this  lady  with  her  sweet,  grave  smile,  her  tender,  womanly 
ways,  her  unconscious  grandeur  of  life.  She  made  no  stir,  no 
demonstration,  though  she  was  the  head  of  a  grand  old  race, 
the  representative  of  an  old  honored  family,  the  holder  of  a 
great  inheritance ;  she  simply  did  her  duty  as  nobly  as  she  knew 
how  to  do  it.  There  was  no  thought  of  self  left  in  her,  her 
whole  energies  were  directed  for  the  good  of  others.  If  Sir  Os- 
wald could  have  known  how  the  home  he  loved  was  cared  for, 
he  would  have  been  proud  of  his  successor.  The  hall  itself, 
the  park,  the  grounds,  were  all  in  perfect  order.  People  won- 


330  SHADO  W  OF  ABSENT  LO  VE. 

dered  how  it  was  all  arranged  by  this  lady,  who  never  seemed 
hurried  nor  talked  of  the  work  she  did. 

Pauline  occupied  herself  incessantly,  for  the  bright  hopes  of 
girlhood,  she  felt,  were  hers  no  longer ;  she  had  admitted  that 
the  romance,  the  passion,  the  poetry  of  her  youth  were  unfor- 
gotten,  but  she  tried  to  think  them  dead.  People  wondered  at 
her  gravity.  She  had  many  admirers,  but  she  never  showed  the 
least  partiality  for  any  of  them.  There  seemed  to  be  some 
shadow  over  her,  and  only  those  who  knew  her  story  knew  what 
it  was— that  it  was  the  shadow  of  her  absent  love. 

She  was  standing  one  day  in  the  library  alone,  the  same 
library  where  so  much  of  what  had  been  eventful  in  her  life 
had  happened.  The  morning  had  been  a  busy  one ;  tenants, 
agents,  business  people  of  all  kinds  had  been  there,  and  Pau- 
line felt  tired. 

Darrell  Court,  the  grand  inheritance  she  had  loved  and  in 
some  measure  longed  for,  was  hers;  she  was  richer  than  she 
had  ever  dreamed  of  being,  and,  as  she  looked  round  on  the 
treasures  collected  in  the  library,  she  thought  to  herself  with  a 
sigh,  "Of  what  avail  are  they,  save  to  make  others  happy?" 
She  would  have  given  them  all  to  be  by  Vane's  side,  no  matter 
how  great  their  poverty,  no  matter  what  they  had  to  undergo 
together;  but  now  it  seemed  that  this  bright  young  love  of 
hers  was  to  wither  away,  to  be  heard  of  no  more. 

So  from  the  beautiful  lips  came  a  deep  sigh ;  she  was  tired, 
wearied  with  the  work  and  incessant  care  that  the  management 
of  her  estates  entailed.  She  did  not  own  it  even  to  herself, 


SHADO  W  OF  ABSENT  LO  VE.  331 

but  she  longed  for  the  presence  of  the  only  being  whom  she 
loved. 

She  was  bending  over  some  beautiful  japonicas — for,  no  mat- 
ter how  depressed  she  might  be,  she  always  found  solace  in 
flowers — when  she  heard  the  sound  of  a  horse's  rapid  trot. 

"Farmer  Bowman  back  again,"  she  said  to  herself,  with  a 
smile ;  "but  I  must  not  give  way  to  him." 

She  was  so  certain  that  it  was  her  tiresome  tenant  that  she  did 
not  even  turn  her  head  when  the  door  opened  and  some  one 
entered  the  room — some  one  who  did  not  speak,  but  who  went 
up  to  her  with  a  beating  heart,  laid  one  hand  on  her  bowed 
head,  and  said : 

"Pauline,  my  darling,  you  have  no  word  of  welcome  for 
me?" 

It  was  Vane.  With  a  glad  cry  of  welcome — a  cry  such  as  a 
lost  child  gives  when  it  reaches  its  mother's  arms — the  cry  of  a 
long-cherished,  trusting  love — she  turned  and  was  clasped  in  his 
arms,  her  haven  of  rest,  her  safe  refuge,  her  earthly  paradise, 
attained  at  last. 

"At  last !"  she  murmured. 

But  he  spoke  no  word  to  her.  His  eyes  were  noting  her  in- 
creased beauty.  He  kissed  the  sweet  lips,  the  lovely  face. 

"My  darling,"  he  said,  "I  left  you  a  beautiful  girl,  but  I  find 
you  a  woman  beautiful  beyond  all  comparison.  It  has  seemed 
to  me  an  age  since  I  left  you,  and  now  I  am  never  to  go  away 
again.  Pauline,  you  will  be  kind  to  me  for  the  sake  of  my 


332  SHADO  W  OF  ABSENT  LO  VE. 

long,  true,  deep  love  ?  You  will  be  my  wife  as  soon  as  I  can 
make  arrangements — will  you  not?" 

There  was  no  coquetry,  no  affectation  about  her ;  the  light 
deepened  on  her  noble  face,  her  lips  quivered,  and  then  she  told 
him : 

"Yes,  whenever  you  wish." 

They  conversed  that  evening  until  the  sun  had  set.  He  told 
her  all  his  experience  since  he  had  left  her,  and  she  found  that 
he  had  passed  through  London  without  even  waiting  to  see 
Lady  St.  Lawrence,  so  great  had  been  his  longing  to  see  her. 

But  the  next  day  Lady  St.  Lawrence  came  down,  and  by  Sir 
Vane's  wish  preparations  for  the  marriage  were  begun  at  once. 
Pauline  preferred  to  be  married  at  Audleigh  Royal  and  among 
her  own  people. 

They  tell  now  of  that  glorious  wedding — of  the  sun  that 
seemed  to  shine  more  brightly  than  it  had  ever  shone  before — 
of  the  rejoicings  and  festivities  such  as  might  have  attended  the 
bridal  of  an  empress — of  the  tears  and  blessings  of  the  poor — 
of  the  good  wishes  that  would  have  made  earth  Heaven  had 
they  been  realized.  There  never  was  such  a  wedding  before. 

Every  other  topic  failed  before  the  one  that  seemed  inex- 
haustible— the  wonderful  beauty  of  the  bride.  She  was  worthy 
of  the  crown  of  orange-blossoms,  and  she  wore  them  with  a 
grace  all  her  own.  Then,  after  the  wedding,  Sir  Vane  and 
Pauline  went  to  Omberleigh.  That  was  the  latter's  fancy,  and, 
standing  that  evening  where  she  had  seen  Vane  first,  she  blessed 


SHADO  W  OF  ABSENT  LOVE.  333 

him  and  thanked  him  with  grateful  tears  that  he  had  redeemed 

her  by  his  great  love. 

*  .          *  *  *  *  *  # 

There  was  a  paragraph  in  a  recent  issue  of  the  Times  an- 
nouncing that  Oswald  St.  Lawrence,  second  son  of  Sir  Vane 
and  Lady  St.  Lawrence,  had,  by  letters-patent,  assumed  the 
name  of  Darrell.  So  that  the  old  baronet's  prayer  is  granted, 
and  the  race  of  Darrell  —  honored  and  respected,  beloved  and 
esteemed  —  is  not  to  be  without  a  representative. 


THE    END. 


1878. 


1878. 


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Tom's  Wife— By  G.  D.  Tallman 

That  Comic  Primer — By  Frank  Bellew. 

That  A. wful  Boy 

That  Jj  \d?et  of  Ours 

Our  Artist  in  Cuba,  etc.  G.  W.  Carleton. 
Why  Wife  and  I  Quarreled 


$1.00. 

Solomon  Isaacs — By  B.  L.   Farjeon 

That  Horrid  Girl 

Me— July  and  August.  By  Mrs.  S.  C.  Coe. 
He  and  I— Sarah  B.  Stebbins 


Annals  of  a  Baby —    do 

That  Charming  Evening— Bellew. 


Mrs.    Hill's    Cook    Book. 

Mrs.  A.  P.  Hill's  New  Southern  Cookery  Book,  and  domestic  receipts $2  oo 

Hand-Books    of    Society. 

The  Habits  of  Good  Society— The  nice  points  of  taste  and  good  manners. ..   .fi  50 

The  Art  of  Conversation — For  those  who  wish  to  be  agreeable  talkers i  50 

The  Arts  of  Writing,  Reading,  and  Speaking— 'For  self-improvement i  50 

New  Diamond  Edition — Small  size,  elegantly  bound,  3  volumes  in  a  box 3  oo 

Cai^leton's    Popular    Quotations. 

Carleton's  New  Hand-Book — Familiar  quotations,  with  their  authorship $i  50 

Famous    Books—"  Carleton's    Edition." 

Robinson  Crusoe — Griset's  Illus..  $i  oo  I  Don  Quixote — Dore's  Illus $i  oo 

Arabian  Nights — Demoraine  Illus. .   i  oo  |  Swiss  Family  Robinson — Marcel    i  oo 

Josh    Billings. 

His  Complete  Writings — With  Biography,  steel  portrait,  and  too  illustrations. $2  oo 
Trump  Cards — Illustrated 25   |  Farmer's  Alminax— Illustrated 25 


/ 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


OCT    8   1936 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


